Winter  IN  Egypt 

AND 

S YR  lA 


Division  Df  5^  ^ 
Section  • P86 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/gatesofeastwinte00pott_0 


GATES  OF  THE^EAST  loo"'^ 


A WINTER  IN 


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0!^ 


Egypt  and  Syria 


/’ 


HENRY  C.  POTTER,  D.D. 


NEW  YORK 

E . P . DUTTON  & COMPANY 
713  Broadway 

1877 


Copyright, 

E.  P.  Dutton  & Company. 
1876. 


CONTENTS. 


Preface,  .... 
I.  From  Italy  to  Egypt, 

II.  The  G.A.TE  of  Egypt, 

III.  The  Land  of  the  Sun, 

IV.  First  Days  in  Cairo,  - 

V.  An  Arab  Temple, 

VI.  The  Mosques  of  Cairo, 

VII.  A Pilgrim  Procession, 

VIII.  Shopping  in  Grand  Cairo,  - 

IX.  The  Nile  Voyage, 

X.  Coptic  Customs,  . . - 

XI.  A Coptic  Wedding,  - 

XII.  Educ.ation  in  Egypt, 

XIII.  The  Nile  and  the  Pyramids, 

XIV.  Our  Gifts  to  Egypt,  - 


PAGE. 

- 5 
9 

- i6 
22 

- 30 
43 

- 51 
58 

- 72 
87 

- 102 
117 

- 131 
145 

- 155 


Some  AVinter  Days  in  Palestine. 


I.  The  Gate  of  Syria,  - . - . 165 

II.  Jaffa, 172 

III.  Ramleh,  182 

IV.  Jerusalem, - 190 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


V.  Outside  the  Walls  of  Jerusalem,-  198 

VI.  Olivet  and  Bethany,  - . . . 207 

VII.  Jericho, 216 

VIII.  The  Dead  Sea  and  the  Jordan,  - 224 

IX.  Bethlehem, 233 

X.  The  Jews  and  their  Wailing-Place 

IN  Jerus.alem, 240 

XI.  Is  IT  Worth  While  to  Visit  the  Holy 

Land? - 247 

' Appendix, 254 


PREFACE. 


We  had  started  for  the  Pyramids  before 
eight  o’clock  in  the  morning.  This  was  not, 
it  must  be  owned,  to  get  a view  of  them  by 
sunrise,  but  to  avoid  being  detained  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  Nile,  by  the  opening  of  the 
drawbridge  which  connects  Cairo  and  the 
west  bank  of  the  river,  until  late  in  the  after- 
noon. But  though  our  early  rising  had  no 
better  motive  than  our  convenience,  it  had 
its  own  abundant  reward.  It  was  early  in 
December,  and  the  country,  as  we  rode  on 
through  the  chill  morning  air,  was  covered 
by  a dense  mist  which  made  any  object  at 
the  distance  of  a hundred  yards  all  but  invis- 
ible. We  were  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Pyramids,  therefore,  almost  before  we  were 
aware  of  their  neighborhood,  and  as  we 
turned  to  find  the  Sphinx,  a sudden  parting 


VI 


PREFACE. 


of  the  dense  vapors  flashed  its  colossal  out- 
lines upon  us  with  an  effect  which  was  almost 
uncomfortably  startling. 

Silently  we  stood  and  gazed.  In  our 
search  we  had  become  separated,  and  though 
but  a few  feet  apart  were  viewing  it  from  op- 
posite angles. 

“What  a pure  and  graceful  outline,”  I 
exclaimed,  “despite  its  colossal  proportions.” 

My  companion  remained  silent  a moment 
longer,  and  then  said,  slowly  : 

“ Scarcely  pure  or  graceful,  I should  say. 
The  lips  are  too  full  to  suggest  such  an  idea, 
and  the  expression,  while  gracious  and  serene, 
is  distinctly  African  and  somewhat  coarse  and 
animal.” 

And  straightway  there  followed  a contro- 
versy which  was  both  long  and  heated.  Sud- 
denly it  occurred  to  the  two  disputants  to 
exchange  places,  and  soon  after  it  became 
apparent  that  we  were  in  imminent  danger  of 
exchanging  our  opinions  likewise. 

This  modest  parable  is  perhaps  a sufficient 
apology  for  the  following  pages.  Books 
about  the  East,  of  a far  less  unambitious 
character  than  this  little  volume,  are  already 
abundant.  But  each  man’s  reminiscences  of 
travel  give  a view  of  more  or  less  familiar 


PREFACE. 


vii 

scenery  from  a comparatively  fresh  view- 
point. And  so  these  recollections  of  what 
others  have  already  seen  and  described  in 
pages  both  grave  and  gay,  may  perhaps  help 
to  set  some  features  of  the  East  in  less 
wonted,  if  more  subdued,  lights. 

Their  title  is  intended  chiefly  as  a dis- 
claimer of  any  pretensions  to  extended 
research.  As  Jaffa  and  Alexandria,  as  they 
are  described  in  the  following  pages,  are  the 
thresholds,  respectively,  of  Egypt  and  Syria, 
so  are  the  Egypt  and  Syria  of  to-day  little 
more  than  the  gates  or  portals  of  that  vaster 
East  which  lies  beyond  them.  To  these  still 
unfamiliar  and,  in  some  degree,  unvisited 
regions,  curiosity  still  turns  most  eagerly ; 
and,  meantime,  while  waiting  for  the  reports 
of  the  adventurous  spirits  who  are  exploring 
them,  may  perhaps  be  willing  to  divert  itself 
with  reminiscences  of  lands  and  peoples  less 
unfamiliar.  H.  C.  P. 


I. 


%rm  la  |lgt|pl* 


The  Parting-Place  of  Two  Forms  of  Civiliza- 
tion— The  Influence  of  Indian  Life  upon 
English  Manners  and  English  Character . 


The  traveller  who  leaves  Brindisi  as  a pas- 
senger on  board  one  of  the  Peninsular  and 
Oriental  Steamship  Company’s  vessels,  bound 
for  Egypt,  takes  his  last  look  at  Italian  shores 
as  the  stately  ship  creeps  cautiously  out  of 
that  ancient  harbor  at  the  hour  of  five  in  the 
morning.  If  the  weather  be  fine,  the  first 
faint  hints  of  daybreak  will  be  flecking  the 
distant  East,  and  little  by  little  as  the  vessel 
moves  from  her  moorings  the  outlines  of  the 
town  will  be  coming  into  view.  At  such  a 
moment  our  traveller,  if  he  be  a tolerably 
quick  observer,  will  discern,  standing  close  to 
the  water’s  edge,  a low  and  ragged-looking 
structure,  without  either  the  dignity  of  age  or 


lO 


FROM  ITALY  TO  EGYPT. 


the  fresher  charms  of  youth,  across  whose  face 
runs  the  legend  in  staring  capitals,  “ English 
Welcome.”  If  he  be  in  a cynical  mood  (as 
he  is  greatly  apt  to  be  if  he  has  travelled  since 
noon  of  the  previous  day  without  pause,  hav- 
ing come  through  from  Bologna  to  Brindisi, 
some  four  hundred  miles,  by  means  of  an  all- 
night  ride  in  a railway  carriage,  which  is  not  a 
Pullman  palace  sleeping-car),  he  will  be  very 
apt  to  mutter  something  not  very  compliment- 
ary to  the  Italian  ingenuity  which,  by  such  be- 
guiling words,  Avould  fain  coax  the  homeward- 
bound  traveller  into  a dirty  inn  where  he  will 
be  regaled  with  stale  beer  and  sour  wine. 

And  yet  the  words,  after  a rudely  typical 
fashion,  are  at  once  expressive  and  true.  The 
steamships  that  sail  from  Alexandria,  in  Eg)'pt, 
to  Brindisi,  in  Italy,  are  the  carriers  of  the 
great  tide  of  traffic  between  India  and  Eng- 
land, or,  indeed,  between  Asia  and  Europe. 
And  so,  when  the  voyager  from  the  East  lands 
at  last  at  that  Italian  port  which  was  once  the 
ancient  Brindisium,  he  for  the  first  time  comes 
in  contact  with  western  civilization,  and  hears 
a European,  and  not  unfrequently  an  English, 
welcome.  In  a word,  in  the  experience  of 
travel  the  port  of  Brindisi  may  be  said  to  be 
the  point  at  which  the  two  civilizations  part 


FROM  ITALY  TO  EGYPT.  II 

company ; and  as  I leaned  over  the  taffrail  of 
the  good  ship  Hindostan,  and  read  the  slowly- 
fading  words  “ English  Welcome  ” over  the 
door  of  the  little  Italian  inn,  I comprehended 
that  they  meant  for  me  not  welcome  but  fare- 
well. The  timbers  beneath  my  feet  were  of 
English  oak,  and  the  commander  who  stood 
near  me,  issuing  his  few  and  brief  orders,  was 
unmistakably  of  English  stock  and  training; 
but  the  crew  who  did  his  bidding  were  quite 
as  unmistakably  of  another  race.  It  did  not 
require  their  Oriental  costume,  and  quick, 
lithe  movements,  to  betray  them  as  Asiatics. 
There  was  in  all  that  they  did  that  wonderful 
absence  of  bustle  or  flurry  which  is  one  of 
the  greatest  charms  of  Eastern  people.  One 
could  understand,  while  watching  them,  why 
it  is  that  we  Westerns  have  learned  to  turn 
to  the  East  for  rest.  To  a tired  and  fevered 
brain,  fretted  and  fagged  with  the  incessant 
hurry  of  our  American  ways,  there  is  some- 
thing inexpressibly  soothing  in  the  mere 
accidents  of  Oriental  life.  It  is  not  only 
that  the  climate  of  the  East  itself  disposes 
one  to  inactivity,  but  scarcely  less,  I am  dis- 
posed to  believe,  because  of  that  absence  of 
nervous  worry,  of  noise,  of  impatience,  of 
sharp  tones  and  pushing  eagerness,  which 


12 


ITALY  TO  EGYPT. 


contribute  so  largely,  though  often  so  insensi- 
bly, to  wear  upon  one’s  nerves  in  connection 
with  tasks  and  responsibilities  that  may  not 
be  exceptionally  great  or  grave.  During  the 
progress  of  our  voyage  the  Avind  sprang  up 
suddenly,  as  it  is  so  apt  to  do  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean, and  it  became  necessary  to  lower  the 
ample  awning  which  had  been  spread  over 
the  deck,  and  to  do  it  with  the  utmost  rapidi- 
ty. The  dullest  imagination  can  easily  depict 
to  itself  the  amount  of  bluster  and  profanity 
on  the  part  of  superiors,  and  of  clamor  and 
blundering  on  the  part  of  the  crew,  with 
which,  on  a ship  manned  as  we  are  ordinarily 
accustomed  to  see  them  manned,  this  would 
have  been  accomplished.  But  as  it  was, 
there  was  something  in  the  swift,  silent,  and 
unerring  rapidity  with  which,  amid  the  utter 
darkness  of  the  evening,  these  Asiatics  began 
and  finished  their  task,  which  was  almost 
ghost-like. 

But  it  is  not  alone  by  the  crew  that  one  is 
reminded  that  he  has  turned  his  back  upon 
the  civilization  and  the  customs  of  the  West. 
The  viands  that  appear  upon  the  ship’s  table 
— among  them  “ Bombay  duck,”  which  is  a 
kind  of  dried  fish,  eaten  as  bread  with  one’s 
curry,  and  Madras  biscuit,  in  which  assafoetida 


FRO:H  ITALY  TO  EGYPT.  13 

is  a prominent  ingredient— the  punka  which 
hangs  suspended  over  our  heads  as  we  par- 
take of  these  novel  delicacies ; the  currency 
in  which  the  smoker  pays  for  his  cigars,  the 
price  of  which,  as  he  is  informed,  is  “ ten  for 
a rupee  ” ; the  slatted  partitions  of  our  state- 
rooms, arranged  so  as  to  make  the  ship  a vast 
sieve  through  which  the  air  can  fully  play — 
all  these  things  tell  us  that  we  have  left 
behind  us  wellnigh  everything  that  is  dis- 
tinctive of  European  life. 

And  of  this  we  are  reminded  not  less  forci- 
bly as  we  come  to  know  and  identify  our 
fellow  passengers.  There  is,  it  is  true,  a 
sprinkling  of  tourists— travellers  who  are 
going  to  the  East  in  search  of  rest,  of  nov- 
elty, or  of  a more  sunny  climate ; but,  as  a 
rule,  the  ship’s  list  is  made  up  of  persons  who 
have  homes  or  duties  in  the  far  East,  and 
who  are  hastening  back,  after  a Summer  in 
England,  to  hard  work  in  Bombay  or  Calcut- 
ta. There  are  judges  and  military  men,  well- 
bronzed  and  nobly-bearded  subalterns  in  the 
Indian  civil  service ; there  is  a missionary,  a 
bride,  and  a Roman  archbishop  of  Calcutta; 
and,  most  interesting  to  those  of  us  who  have 
homes  and  children,  there  are  parents  whom 
the  hard  exigencies  of  the  Indian  climate 


14 


FROM  ITALY  TO  EGYPT. 


have  compelled  to  leave  behind  in  England 
their  children,  and  who  are  putting  weary 
years  and  thousands  of  miles  between  them 
and  all  that  is  dearest  to  them.  But  what- 
ever may  be  their  private  histories,  almost  all 
of  them  are,  as  travelled  Englishmen  so 
universally  are,  delightful  companions  and 
most  kindly  and  intelligent  fellow-travellers. 
It  is  surely  one  of  the  lesser  boons  of  India 
to  England  that  it  has  rubbed  off  from  so 
many  English  people  the  somewhat  narrow 
and  insular  characteristics  which  make  Eng- 
lish men  and  women  sometimes  not  altogether 
lovely  to  their  American  cousins.  We  shall 
probably  never  see  these  fellow-voyagers  of 
ours  again ; but  we  shall  remember  them,  I 
fancy,  for  many  a day  to  come. 

Crossing  the  Mediterranean  Sea  is  apt  to 
be  a troubled  and  turbulent  experience ; but 
our  voyage  from  shore  to  shore  (I  write  these 
lines  within  sight  of  that  modern  Pharos  which 
lights  the  way  to  the  port  of  Alexandria)  has 
been  as  serene  as  a journey  by  steamboat  up 
the  Hudson  ; and  in  the  evening,  when  the 
main  deck,  lighted,  under  its  vast  awning, 
with  huge  globe  lamps  hung  at  intervals  along 
its  whole  length,  is  thronged  with  the  gay 
groups  that  have  come  up  from  our  6 o’clock 


FROM  ITALY  TO  EGYPT.  15 

dinner,  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  one  is  at  sea 
at  all.  There  is  not  even  the  usual  ocean 
swell,  and  the  level  sea,  with  the  moon  just 
rising  behind  the  hills  of  Candia — that  Crete 
which,  to  the  Christian  hearts,  will  forever  be 
consecrated  by  its  association  with  its  first 
Bishop,  the  devout  and  zealous  Titus — com- 
bines to  make  a scene  at  once  unique  and 
picturesque.  To  any  one  seeking  repose,  such 
a life  at  sea,  could  it  last  long  enough,  would 
be  simply  perfect ; and  as  one  of  our  party,  a 
lady  of  somewhat  nervous  temperament,  con- 
fesses to  having  slept  twelve  hours  without 
awaking,  it  may  safely  be  recommended  as 
a “ soft  nepenthe  ” for  irritated  and  tired  ner- 
vous organizations. 

But  I am  warned  that  it  is  time  to  stop. 
A soft-voiced  and  comely-looking  personage 
in  a flowing  costume  of  dark  blue,  with  a 
brilliant  sash  and  turban,  appears  unexpect- 
edly at  my  elbow,  and  informs  me  that  we  are 
to  go  ashore  at  Alexandria  without  delay,  and 
that  he  is  commissioned  to  escort  our  party 
as  far  as  Cairo.  He  is  Hassan  Speke  by 
name,  and  he  bears  credentials  from  honored 
New  Yorkers,  which  encourage  us  to  confide 
ourselves  to  his  guidance  with  entire  assur- 
ance. A short  row  in  an  open  boat,  a parting 


i6 


THE  GATE  OF  EGYPT. 


glance  at  our  good  ship  Hindostan,  and  our 
feet  are  on  Egyptian  soil  and  our  ears  saluted 
with  the  babel  of  tongues  which  mark  an 
Eastern  seaport. 


II. 


First  Impressions  of  the  East  — The  Bible  and 
the  Arabian  Nights — Aladdin  Buying  his 
Lamp. 


There  is  undoubtedly  one  advantage  in  a 
Custom  House  which  has  never  been  ade- 
quately recognized.  It  is  a singularly  efficient 
check  upon  a traveller’s  excessive  enthusiasm. 
The  world  will  probably  never  know  how 
many  glowing  utterances  have  been  stifled  and 
silenced  by  the  petty  vexations  of  “ passing  ” 
one’s  luggage.  The  voyager  from  the  West 
who  sails  into  the  harbor  of  Alexandria  will 


THE  GATE  OF  EGYPT. 


17 


be  dull,  indeed,  if  both  memory  and  imagina- 
tion are  not  aroused  by  the  sight  of  its  towers 
and  mosques  and  minarets.  His  mind  will 
first  recall  the  grand  Macedonian  conqueror 
whose  name  it  bears,  and  if  he  be  a Christian 
student  he  will  not  less  vividly  remember  its 
once  matchless  library,  and  the  story  of  the 
translations  of  the  Septuagint.  Not  less 
vividly  will  rise  the  history  of  the  Church  in 
Alexandria  and  of  the  great  names  whose 
genius  Kingsley  has  inwoven  into  the  thread 
of  his  greatest  novel,  “Hypatia.”  And  then 
the  nearer  history  of  later  days,  of  the  con- 
quests of  the  Turk  and  of  the  Corsican — it  is 
very  easy  to  see  that  there  is  a great  deal  of 
material  here  for  “ fine  ” writing  and  “ gush- 
ing ” enthusiasm ; but  it  is  astonishing  how 
rapidly  this  enthusiasm  evaporates  in  the 
presence  of  a preternaturally  solemn-looking 
African  gentleman,  whose  compound  expres- 
sion of  self-consequence  and  stupidity  makes 
one  recall  instinctively  some  early  fruits  of 
the  Fifteenth  Amendment,  who  challenges 
your  trunks  as  they  are  landed  from  the 
feluccas,  and  whose  vigilance  in  their  ex- 
amination will  depend,  absolutely  and  invari- 
ably, upon  the  very  practical  question  whether 
you  approach  him  beforehand  with  one  rupee 
2 


i8 


THE  GATE  OF  EGYPT. 


or  two.  You  know,  and  you  know  that  he 
knows,  that  the  Egyptian  customs  laws  exempt 
all  passengers’  luggage  of  whatever  sort,  and 
that  he  has  not  the  slightest  right  to  do  more 
than  assure  himself  of  what  is  obvious  enough, 
that  you  are  a traveller  and  not  a trader ; and 
this  knowledge  does  not  contribute  to  the 
serenity  of  your  temper  while  he  commaiTds 
you  to  open  one  portmanteau  after  another, 
his  blundering  and  bungling  scrutiny  of  which 
indicates  most  plainly  that  he  would  not  be 
able  to  recognize  a contraband  article  if  he 
should  see  it. 

The  ordeal  produces  one  effect  with  uner- 
ring certainty.  By  the  time  you  have  got 
through  with  the  ebony  guardian  of  the 
Khedive’s  revenue  (whose  tint  implies  his 
Nubian  rather  than  Egyptian  extraction), 
every  vestige  of  sentimental  enthusiasm  has 
evaporated,  and  you  are  in  a fine  state  of 
indifference  as  to  every  historic  association  or 
monument  of  antiquity  by  which  Alexandria 
is  distinguished. 

Perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  it  is  so,  for  other- 
wise the  sights  that  greet  one  who  passes  for 
the  first  time  through  the  thronged  and  nar- 
row streets  of  this  busy  seaport  would  be 
almost  too  much  for  his  equanimity.  Alex- 


THE  GATE  OF  EGYPT. 


19 


andria  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  least  eastern 
of  eastern  cities.  Its  own  national  customs 
and  characteristics  have  been  so  overlaid  with 
those  of  other  races  and  lands  that  in  some 
parts  of  the  town  there  is  little  that  is  not 
distinctively  French  or  English  or  Italian. 
There  are  shops  and  signs  and  posters  on  the 
walls  representing  each  and  all  of  these 
nations  and  their  speech.  But  all  this  does 
not  extinguish,  if  it  does  much  more  than 
most  imperfectly  modify,  the  intensely  unfa- 
miliar look  of  that  which  your  first  drive  or 
walk  reveals  to  you.  The  open  shops,  with 
their  cross-legged  proprietors  sitting  so  close 
to  the  carriage-way  that  one  might  reach  out 
his  hand  and  reap  a harvest  of  commercial 
turbans  without  leaving  his  seat ; the  water- 
carriers,  with  their  skins  filled  with  water  and 
borne  upon  their  shoulders ; the  microscopic 
donkeys,  bearing  personages  so  rotund  and 
portly  that  one  wonders  why  Mr.  Bergh  has 
never  moved  eastward  Avlth  his  merciful  work 
of  prevention ; the  veiled  women,  who  look  so 
mysterious,  and  whose  costumes  are  so  per- 
fect a type,  in  their  hideous  shapelessness,  of 
their  harder  lot  of  seclusion  and  inferiority  ; 
the  tropical  fruits  and  flowers,  which  by  their 
endless  profusion  make  vulgar  and  valueless 


20 


THE  GATE  OF  EGYPT. 


the  rarest  exotics  of  the  hot-houses  of  Euro- 
pean princes ; all  these  things  come  upon  one 
with  a force  of  surprise  and  fascination  which 
no  familiarity  derived  from  books  or  the 
spoken  reminiscences  of  others  can  in  the 
slightest  degree  diminish.  Indeed,  all  the 
descriptions  of  books  and  the  glowing  tales 
of  travellers  are  alike  forgotten,  with  two 
memorable  exceptions — one  of  these  is  the 
Bible,  and  the  other  is  the  “Arabian  Nights.” 
I shall  never  forget  the  suddenness  with 
which,  when  for  the  first  time  I saw  an  Arab 
seis,  or  runner,  flying,  a very  figure  of  INIer- 
cury,  with  his  flowing  and  wing-like  sleev'es, 
his  long,  slender  wand,  and  his  indescribably 
graceful,  elastic,  and  at  the  same  time  fleet 
and  tireless,  gait — there  sprung  to  my  lips  the 
passage,  “ And  Elijah  girded  up  his  loins  and 
ran  before  the  chariot  of  Ahab,  even  to  the 
entrance  of  Jezreel.” 

So  scarcely  less  of  scenes  from  the  “ Ara- 
bian Nights.”  I passed,  one  day,  the  shop  or 
booth  of  a dealer  in  lamps,  and  in  the  atti- 
tude of  a young  Egyptian,  who  stood  criti- 
cally scrutinizing  a brass  lamp,  which,  from 
its  material  and  shape,  looked  as  if  it  might 
have  been  made  a thousand  years  ago,  there 
was  something  which  made  me  exclaim. 


THE  GATE  OF  EGYPT. 


21 


“ Aladdin  ! ” as  if  on  the  instant  the  marvels 
of  the  wonderful  lamp  were  waiting  to  be 
repeated.  There  is  a strange  excitement  in 
scenes  like  these,  when  they  are  met  for  the 
first  time,  which  makes  one  almost  doubt,  for 
the  moment,  his  own  identity. 

Just  because  words  can  so  poorly  repro- 
duce such  impressions,  I shall  not  be  guilty 
of  the  impertinence  of  describing  what  so 
many  others  have  seen  and  sketched  before, 
and  what  art  has  made  even  more  familiar 
than  have  letters.  Of  course  every  new- 
comer in  Egypt  goes  to  see  Pompey’s  Pillar 
and  Cleopatra’s  Needle,  and  equally  of 
course,  if  he  is  moved  to  think  about  them  at 
all,  resents  the  mistaken  tradition  which  asso- 
ciates the  former  with  a name  which  it  was 
not  reared  to  commemorate,  and  despises  the 
latter  as  so  contemptible  a memorial  of  so 
famous  a woman  ; but  I think  that  those  of 
us  who  went  sight-seeing  together  for  the  first 
time  in  Alexandria  found  our  foremost  object  of 
interest  in  a very  different  direction,  and  in  a far 
more  modern  structure.  Some  of  us  had  heard 
of  the  Hospital  of  the  Deaconesses  of  Kaisers- 
werth,  and  we  were  anxious  to  see  something, 
if  possible,  of  their  work.  Of  our  visit  I shall 
have  some  account  to  give  in  another  chapter. 


III. 


of  11^0 


First  Days  in  Egypt — Perpetually  Unclouded 
Skies  — Conversation  Minus  the  Weather  — 
The  Deaconesses'  Hospital  JVork. 


The  day  of  our  arrival  in  Alexandria  hap- 
pened, fortunately,  to  be  one  of  the  two  days 
in  the  week  when  the  Hospital  of  the  Deacon- 
esses of  Kaiserswerth  is  open  to  visitors,  and 
upon  driving  to  the  gateway  we  were  at  once 
admitted  to  the  M'ards.  A more  striking  con- 
trast to  the  scenes  which  Ave  had  left  without 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  conceive.  A few 
moments  before  Ave  had  stood  at  the  base  of 
the  pillar  Avhich,  knoAvn  as  Pompey’s,  com- 
memorates the  victories  of  Diocletian,  amid 
surroundings  Avhich  appealed  Avith  equal 
offensiA'^eness  to  almost  all  our  senses.  It  Avas 
just  at  the  edge  of  a huge  cemetery,  Avhose 
liAung  fringe  consisted  of  a straggling  line  of 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  SUN. 


23 


hovels,  so  mean  and  dreary  that  one  felt 
instinctively  that  the  living  must  daily  envy 
the  happier  and  more  decent  lot  of  the  dead 
who  slept  beside  them.  The  Egyptians  have 
a passion  for  sitting,  eating,  sleeping,  and 
working  on  the  ground,  which  to  our  western 
eyes  is  as  filthy  as  it  is  unintelligible;  and 
then  the  flies  and  the  heat  and  the  decaying 
ddbris  of  vegetable  matter — all  this  made  a 
condition  so  degraded  and  pitiful  that  it 
seemed  almost  an  affront  to  be  passively  look- 
ing upon  it,  instead  of  straightway  setting  to 
work  to  better  it. 

It  was  from  such  spectacles  that  we  passed 
in  an  instant  to  the  roomy,  cool,  and  spotlessly- 
clean  precincts  of  the  Deaconesses’  Hospital. 
I had  made  it  my  business  while  in  the  great 
cities  of  Europe  to  inspect  their  hospitals  with 
especial  reference  to  the  two  points  of  arrange- 
ment and  ventilation.  In  these  respects,  and 
no  less  in  many  others,  nothing  could  be  better 
than  the  Kaiserswerth  Hospital  at  Alexandria. 
The  Germans  have  a happy  gift  of  making  the 
houses  in  which  they  live  look  cosey  and 
home-like ; and  in  the  wards,  as  we  passed  on 
through  the  hospital,  there  were  so  many 
nameless  little  tokens  of  thoughtfulness  and 
refinement  that  we  recognized  at  once  the 


24 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  SUN. 


presence  of  womanly  taste  and  painstaking. 
It  being  visitors’  day,  the  patients  were,  some 
of  them,  enjoying  the  visits  of  friends,  and 
there  was  something  indescribably  pathetic  in 
the  brightening  and  grateful  looks  which  they, 
and  those  persons  who  sat  beside  them,  turned 
upon  the  sister  who  accompanied  us  from  ward 
to  ward. 

Mission-work,  so  far  as  it  has  been  an 
attempt  to  convert  them  from  their  ancient 
faith,  has  been  proverbially  slow  and  disheart- 
ening work  among  Mohammedan  races,  and 
missionaries  have  found  how  almost  invincible 
are  the  prejudices  of  a people  who  cling  so 
tenaciously  to  the  religious  traditions  of  their 
past ; but  one  could  not  help  thinking  that  if 
anything  could  efficiently  translate  to  the 
Egyptian  the  spirit  of  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and,  at  the  same  time,  win  a way  for  it 
to  the  hearts  of  these  disciples  of  the  Moslem 
prophet,  it  would  be  the  incomparable  beauty 
and  benignity  of  this  work  of  the  Deaconesses 
of  Kaiserswerth. 

A work  more  devoid  of  sentimentalism,  and 
yet  more  heroic  in  its  unrecorded  self-denials, 
it  would  be  hard  to  imagine.  The  diseases 
which  bring  patients  to  the  hospital  are  often 
of  the  most  distressing  and  loathesome  kind. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  SUN. 


25 


and  a life  of  such  ministrations,  in  a debilitat- 
ing climate,  far  from  home  and  friends,  is  one 
that  only  the  loftiest  inspirations  could  make 
endurable.  And  yet  the  simple,  robust,  prac- 
tical way  in  which  the  deaconesses  went  about 
their  work  was  a positive  refreshment  to  be- 
hold. There  was  an  utter  absence  of  a com- 
plaining or  whining  or  sanctimonious  tone,  an 
open-eyed  and  straightforward  candor  in  mien 
and  speech  and  gesture,  which  might  well  be 
imitated  by  the  members  of  religious  orders 
everywhere.  Yet  these  women  can  feel,  and 
feel  intensely;  for  when  one  of  the  visitors, 
upon  leaving,  placed  in  the  hand  of  the  sister 
who  had  attended  us  a substantial  token  of 
interest  in  the  work,  her  face,  as  she  received 
it,  and  her  voice,  as  she  said  in  broken  and 
stammering  English,  “ Surely  the  Lord  will 
reward  you,”  were  surcharged  with  intensest 
emotion. 

As  we  passed  out  of  the  hospital  gate  we 
were  greeted  with  a scene  which  most  forcibly 
recalled  to  us  our  Oriental  surroundings. 
Seated  on  the  ground  just  beside  the  road  was 
a woman  draped  in  black  from  head  to  foot, 
and  surrounded  by  a circle  of  female  figures. 
We  found,  upon  inquiry,  that  it  was  a mother 
who  had  lost  her  son  (the  lad  having  just  died 


26 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  SUN. 


in  the  hospital),  and  whose  friends  had  come 
to  mourn  with  her.  Here,  as  before,  we  found 
ourselves  thinking  of  descriptions  in  the 
Bible,  and  the  picture  of  Job’s  friends  sitting 
at  the  first  as  these  women  were  sitting,  in  a 
common  and  unbroken  silence,  became  a 
living  reality.  We  could  not  help  hoping  that 
here  the  resemblance  might  end,  and  that, 
unlike  the  Patriarch  in  his  grief,  the  bereaved 
mother  might  not  be  tortured  by  the  imperti- 
nent attempts  of  her  friends  to  interpret  to 
her  the  dealings  of  God. 

As  we  rode  back  to  our  inn,  the  clouds 
which  had  been  gathering  broke,  and  we  were 
disposed  to  grumble  at  the  inconvenience  to 
which  the  shower  seemed  likely  to  subject  us ; 
but  we  were  silenced  when  our  dragoman  told 
us  that  it  was  the  first  rain  that  Alexandria 
had  had  for  a year ! When,  after  it  was  over, 
and  the  evening  closed  down  upon  us,  we 
looked  out  from  our  balcony  upon  such  a 
night  as  one  sees  nowhere  else  in  the  world, 
Ave  had  a fresh  surprise.  A friend  in  Paris 
had  charged  us  to  provide  ourselves  with  an 
astronomical  chart,  and  we  were  thankful  that 
we  had  heeded  the  suggestion.  Such  a con- 
trast to  the  skies  of  Europe  it  is  simply  im- 
possible to  imagine.  Among  our  travelling 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  SUN. 


27 


companions  in  crossing  the  Mediterranean 
was  a distinguished  American  whose  official 
residence  is  in  Germany,  and  who  mentioned 
that  he  had  not  seen  the  sun  in  Berlin  for  five 
weeks.  It  was  not  surprising,  therefore,  to 
hear  him  say  that  when  he  glided  out  of  the 
Mont  Cenis  Tunnel  into  the  sunny  air  of 
Italy,  “ it  was  like  coming  into  heaven ; ” but 
even  the  sun  and  the  sky  of  Italy  seem  pale 
beside  those  of  Egypt ; and  when  the  night 
comes  it  has  a soft  and  luminous  charm  which 
makes  going  to  bed  seem  almost  profanity. 
In  Alexandria,  moreover,  our  surroundings 
made  sleep  nearly  as  impossible  as  it  seemed 
irreverent ; for,  whether  it  was  a consequence 
of  the  situation  of  our  inn,  or  of  the  exigen- 
cies of  some  Mohammedan  feast  or  fast,  our 
ears  were  saluted  all  night  long  with  the  call 
of  the  muezzin  to  prayer,  and  whether  his 
call  was  the  ancient  one,  “ Prayer  is  better 
than  sleep,”  or  some  other,  we  were  unani- 
mous in  the  conclusion  that  nothing  could 
have  been  worse  than  such  wretched  sleep  as 
was  ours. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  such  minor  annoyances 
— and,  of  course,  it  is  only  in  exceptional 
situations  that  they  are  to  be  encountered — 
the  climate  of  Egypt  has  a perpetual  and 


28 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  SUN. 


matchless  charm.  Its  airs  are  not  softer,  nor 
its  skies  sunnier,  perhaps,  than  those  of  parts 
of  our  own  land  or  many  others.  But  to  the 
invalid,  its  unbroken  equilibrium,  if  I may 
use  the  phrase,  must  be  an  unspeakable  com- 
fort. The  American  inhabitants  of  Egypt 
whom  I have  seen  declare  that  its  Summer 
heats  are  less  excessive  than  those  of  New 
York,  while  its  serene  and  sunny  Winters, 
where  storms  are  simply  impossible,  make 
living  a perpetual  delight.  The  effect  it  has, 
however,  of  withdrawing  from  active  circula- 
tion a large  part  of  the  most  useful  small 
change  of  western  conversation  is  at  once 
amusing  and  awkward.  Coming  from  Eng- 
land, where,  at  the  close  of  a great  ecclesias- 
tical gathering,  lasting  for  a week,  during  the 
whole  of  Avhich  the  sun  was  visible  for  just 
five  hours,  I nevertheless  heard  the  mayor  of 
the  city  felicitating  the  members  of  the 
assembly  upon  the  fact  that  they  had  been 
“ favored  with  such  remarkably  fine  weather,” 
one  naturally  remarks  the  dawn  of  a sunshiny 
morning.  But  to  an  inhabitant  it  is,  appar- 
ently, quite  unmeaning  to  speak  of  it.  If  you 
say  it  is  a fine  day,  he  stares  at  you  with  an 
air  of  curious  interrogation  which  shows  that 
he  does  not  quite  grasp  your  meaning.  It  is 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  SUN. 


29 


as  much  a truism  as  if  you  had  said  “ there  is 
a sun  in  the  heavens.”  To  him  it  is  as  much 
the  function  of  the  sun  to  shine  in  an  abso- 
lutely unclouded  sky  as  it  is  that  of  the  earth 
to  turn  upon  its  axis.  I am  not  sure  that  so 
much  sunshine  might  not  grow  monotonous 
at  last,  but  as  a change  from  harsher  and 
gloomier  skies  it  is  certainly  most  delightful. 
As  one  experiences  it  for  the  first  time,  his 
wonder  is  not  that  there  has  been  one  Lady 
Duff  Gordon  with  her  home  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Nile,  but  rather  that  the  whole  English 
people  in  a body  do  not  flock  to  the  land  of 
whose  great  commercial  highway  they  have  so 
lately  and  so  wisely  possessed  themselves. 


IV. 


paga  in  ©aim* 

Odd  Phases  of  Mohammedan  Character — The 
Remedy  for  Egypt's  Ills. 


It  is  an  ignominious  approach  to  Cairo  to 
find  your  way  into  it  by  means  of  an  English 
railway  carriage.  If  one  has  read  Eden’s 
descriptions  of  the  approach  to  the  city,  as 
seen  from  the  Nile,  or  from  the  back  of  a 
camel,  he  realizes  that  he  is  purchasing  com- 
fort at  a very  large  sacrifice  of  picturesque- 
ness as  he  runs  into  the  Cairo  station.  The 
station  itself  wears  the  air  of  a stopping- 
place  on  the  Pacific  Railway,  with  the  ad- 
dition of  a slight  French  veneer.  There 
is  nothing  Oriental  in  the  omnibus,  or  in 
the  steeds  that  draw  it,  and  one  has  to  drive 
a block  or  two  before  he  realizes  that  he 
is  in  an  Oriental  city. 

The  first  thing  that  conspicuously  indicates 


FIRST  DAYS  IN  CAIRO. 


31 


that  is  a drinking  fountain  erected  by  the 
present  Khedive’s  mother,  and  indicating  on 
the  part  of  that  estimable  old  lady  a thought- 
fulness for  the  comfort  of  the  common  people 
which  has  not  always  been  the  distinguishing 
characteristic  of  her  royal  son.  Nothing 
could  be  more  utterly  unlike  a European  or 
American  drinking  fountain  than  this  one  in 
Cairo.  It  looks,  instead,  like  a bank  or  a 
prison,  and  is  as  difficult  of  approach  as  if  it 
were  a post-office.  In  order  to  get  your  cup 
of  water  you  have  to  climb  a steep  flight  of 
steps  and  apply  at  one  of  a series  of  windows, 
which  are  closed  by  massive  iron  gratings, 
through  which  the  water  is  warily  passed. 
And  such  a sight  makes  one  straightway  ap- 
preciate the  preciousness  of  pure  water.  I 
realized  it  in  another  way  when  I was  told 
that  an  officer  in  high  rank  in  the  government 
indicated  his  especial  confidence  in  his  second 
wife  (who,  it  appears,  is  far  more  of  a favorite 
than  any  of  the  other  three)  by  entrusting  to 
her  keeping  the  key  of  his  water-jar.  Could 
there  be  a more  expressive  indication,  inci- 
dentally, of  the  life  of  wariness  and  suspicion 
which  an  Oriental  personage  of  rank  so  often 
leads,  expecting  to  be  poisoned  by  the  hands 
of  the  persons  who  owe  him  the  most  loyal 


32 


' FIRST  DAYS  IN  CAIRO. 


devotion ; and,  again,  of  the  preciousness  of 
the  thing  -which,  free  as  the  air  with  us,  a 
prince  in  Egypt  keeps  under  lock  and  key  ? 

I realized  this  still  further  when,  a few  days 
later,  I encountered  in  the  bazaar  a water- 
peddler,  who  pestered  me  to  buy  a cup  of 
water,  as  if  he  were  offering  me  the  rarest 
bargain.  But  one  comes  to  understand  it 
when  he  finds  that  the  great  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple are  dependent  upon  the  water  which  is 
brought  from  the  river  by  hand,  either  in  jars 
upon  the  heads  of  girls  or  in  skins  upon  the 
backs  of  men.  Anything  which  involves  so 
much  laborious  drudgery  must  be,  in  a cer- 
tain sense,  a costly  luxury. 

The  system  is  not  without  its  advantages, 
which  are  not  perhaps  adequately  estimated. 
An  Egyptian  water-carrier  is  the  very  realiza- 
tion of  graceful  motion.  As  the  women  come 
up  from  the  river’s  bank,  skilfully  balancing 
the  huge  jars  of  water  upon  their  heads,  you 
find  yourself  owning  that  no  picture,  by 
whatsoever  gifted  hand,  has  at  all  conveyed 
to  you  the  singular  charm  of  their  bearing 
and  action.  It  was  impossible  that  it  should 
convey  it,  for,  although  a picture  can  suggest 
motion,  it  cannot  portray  it;  and  it  must 
surely  be  a lesson  to  the  women  of  more  civ- 


FIIiST  DAYS  IN  CAIRO. 


33 


ilized  nations  who  have  been  striving  for  gen- 
erations by  a thousand  conventionalisms  of 
dress,  of  pose,  and  of  action  to  secure  the 
charm  of  graceful  movement  and  aspect  to 
find  themselves  utterly  eclipsed  by  a statue  of 
living  and  breathing  bronze,  whose  only  gar- 
ment is  composed  of  a few  yards  of  dirty  blue 
cotton  cloth,  hanging  loosely  from  her  throat 
to  her  feet,  and  who  is,  nevertheless,  in  every 
movement  of  her  stately  figure,  and  in  every 
wave  and  fold  of  her  simple  drapery,  a very 
poem  of  grace  and  dignity.  One  could  not 
help  speculating  what  would  be  the  effect 
upon  the  persons  most  interested  in  the  mat- 
ter, if  the  young  ladies  whose  only  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Central  Park  reservoir  consists 
at  present  in  driving  languidly  past  it,  were 
constrained,  instead,  to  supply  their  own  fam- 
ilies with  its  liquid  stores  after  the  Egyptian 
fashion.  It  would  be  a novelty  upon  the 
shady  side  of  Fifth  avenue ; but  it  would 
vastly  diminish  the  number  of  narrow-chested 
and  consumptive  young  women  who  now 
stroll  to  and  fro  through  that  thoroughfare. 
When  you  go  to  Sakkara  to  visit  its 
Pyramids,  your  donkey-boy,  if  you  eschew 
the  railway,  will  have  to  run  beside  you,  first 
and  last,  for  a distance  of  thirty-five  miles. 

3 


34 


FIRST  DATS  IN  CAIRO. 


“ What  splendid  lungs ! ” you  think,  and  are 
puzzled  to  explain  such  rare  endurance  until 
you  remember  that  the  donkey-boy’s  mother 
was  a water-carrier,  as  are  all  of  the  Egyptian 
women  of  the  lower  classes,  to  a greater  or 
less  extent,  and  then  you  understand  where 
your  young  companion  got  the  deep-chested 
endurance  that  reminds  you  of  an  Arabian 
race-horse.  And  then,  too,  you  find  yourself 
considering  whether,  after  all,  we  do  not  pay 
for  our  “ modern  conveniences  ” too  high  a 
price,  and  whether  fewer  stationary  basins 
and  more  muscular  exertion  might  not  be 
good  for  American  as  well  as  for  Egyptian 
women. 

At  any  rate,  it  is  a good  deal  more  rational 
than  the  first  specimen  of  masculine  activity 
which  I happened  to  witness  in  Cairo. 
Among  our  travelling  companions  in  our 
voyage  across  the  Mediterranean  was  an  Eng- 
lish clergyman,  who  had  been  for  many  years 
engaged  in  missionary  work  at  Peshawur  in 
India.  He  tarried  for  some  days  in  Cairo,  to 
make  inquiries  as  to  Mohammedanism  in 
Egypt,  and,  at  his  suggestion,  a few  of  us 
employed  a part  of  our  first  day  in  Cairo  in 
visiting  the  Mosque  of  the  Dancing  Dervishes. 
It  was  Friday,  which  is  the  Mohammedan 


FIRST  DAYS  IN  CAIRO. 


35 


Sabbath,  and  we  reached  the  mosque  just  as 
the  dervishes  had  begun  their  peculiar  ser- 
vice. It  has  been  so  often  described  that  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  depict  its  most  eccentric 
characteristics ; but  I wish  that  American 
readers,  who  know  it  only  from  the  clever,  but 
chiefly  ludicrous,  descriptions  of  their  literary 
countrymen  or  others,  could  read  the  admir- 
able work  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hughes  (the  Eng- 
lish clergyman  who  accompanied  us),  if  only 
for  the  insight  which  it  gives  into  the  religious 
significance  of  this  strange  and  apparently 
meaningless  rite.  The  Dancing  Dervishes 
are  a monastic  order,  living  in  community, 
and  holding  to  certain  doctrines  common  to 
the  mystics  and  quietists.  Their  not  un- 
graceful and  evenly-protracted  motion,  which 
is  maintained  without  any  sound  on  the  part 
of  the  performers  (although  it  is  accompanied 
by  the  dismal  tintinnabulation  of  an  Egyptian 
orchestra,  and  the  monotonous  and  droning 
chant  of  a few  choristers  seated  in  a gallery), 
is  supposed  somehow  to  sublimate  the  coarser 
part  of  their  nature,  and  to  lift  them  into 
a state  of  more  intimate  communion  with 
heaven.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  this  impression 
obtains ; for  the  continued  and  rapid  revolu- 
tions which  they  maintain — revolutions  so 


36  FIRST  DAYS  IN  CAIRO. 

swift  and  protracted  as  to  make  one  almost 
dizzy  in  observing  them — must  produce  a 
condition  of  the  brain  in  Avhich  clear  percep- 
tion is  simply  impossible.  It  is  not  the  only 
instance  in  which  dizziness  has  been  mistaken 
for  spiritual  exaltation,  and  we  needed  only 
to  watch  it  for  a little  while  to  see  that  the 
participants  were  in  profound  earnest.  It 
was  at  first  a somewhat  perplexing  circum- 
stance that  the  principal  personage  who  pre- 
sided over  the  exercises  took  no  part  in  the 
dancing,  but  it  was  evident  that  he  had 
reached  an  age  when  pirouetting  at  the  rate 
of  about  forty  revolutions  a minute  was 
wholly  out  of  the  question.  He  contented 
himself,  therefore,  with  occasionally  advancing 
from  a richly-dyed  wool  mat  at  the  edge  of 
the  circle  of  dancers,  on  which,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  exercises,  he  had  taken  his  stand, 
and  making  a slight  reverence  to  the  dancers, 
which  was  immediately  acknowledged  on  their 
part  by  a very  profound  obeisance. 

As  I have  said,  there  is  enough  that  is  ludi- 
crous in  this  service  to  impress  the  most 
serious  observer  ; but  it  was  equally  impossi- 
ble, after  the  first  sensation  of  the  intense  ab- 
surdity of  the  spectacle  of  a dozen  or  more 
full-grown  men  whirling  rapidly  upon  their 


riBST  DAYS  IN  CAIRO. 


37 


toes,  not  to  be  profoundly  saddened  by  it.  A 
mechanical  exercise  of  the  body  as  an  act  of 
religious  worship  must  necessarily  be  a mel- 
ancholy sight,  just  in  proportion  as  it  is 
obviously  serious.  And  of  the  seriousness  of 
these  Dancing  Dervishes  there  could  be  no 
doubt.  There  was  among  them  a youth 
whose  face  was  a study  for  a painter.  He 
had  scarcely  passed  the  'age  of  boyhood,  but 
his  rapt  and  absorbed  expression,  when  con- 
trasted with  the  duller  and  more  vacant 
countenances  of  his  fellow-worshippers,  re- 
minded one  of  Dore’s  wonderful  pictures  of 
the  neophyte,  in  which  a young  monk  with 
thoughtful  and  far-seeing  gaze  is  seated  amid 
a group  of  drowsy  and  drowsing  fellow- 
worshippers  of  the  same  order.  What  a 
misdirection  of  spiritual  aspirations  ! What 
a waste  of  fine  powers,  too,  perhaps — powers 
which,  more  worthily  directed,  might  have 
lifted  more  than  one  of  his  countrymen  to  a 
loftier  and  worthier  conception  of  the  God 
whom  they  and  he  professed  to  honor. 

Not  that  the  Mohammedan  faith  is  without 
some  aspects  worthy  of  imitation  by  persons 
who  account  themselves  disciples  of  a purer 
faith.  After  concluding  our  negotiations  with 
our  dragoman  for  our  approaching  voyage  up 


38  FIRST  DAYS  IN  CAIRO. 

the  Nile,  one  of  the  party  added,  “And  now, 
Hassan,  let  us  pray  for  a fair  wind.”  “A  fair 
wind  "i  ” said  our  mild  and  low-voiced  Has- 
san interrogatively  in  reply.  “ Yes  ; I mean 
a north  wind.”  “Nay,  sir,”  was  Hassan ’s 
answer,  “ let  us  be  content  to  believe  that 
God  will  send  us  the  right  wind.”  “To  be 
sure,”  was  the  somewhat  impatient  rejoinder 
to  this,  “ but  what  we  want  is  something  dif- 
ferent from  this  wind,”  vdiich  was  blowing  at 
the  moment  steadily  from  the  South.  “Very 
true,  sir,”  said  Hassan,  as  mildly  as  before, 
but  with  a slight  tone  of  rebuke  in  his  voice, 
“ but  do  you  not  believe,  sir,  that  this  wind 
has  been  the  right  Avind  for  somebody  to- 
day .?  ” 

Of  course,  we  are  wont  to  explain  all  such 
expressions  by  referring  them  to  the  influence 
of  that  doctrine  of  fatalism  which  is  so  large 
an  ingredient  in  the  religious  ideas  of  the 
average  Moslem.  Probably  this  is  true 
enough,  but  one  cannot  help  wishing  some- 
times, when  seeing  the  submission  of  the 
Egyptian  to  the  inevitable  or  unavoidable, 
that  they  who  despise  his  religion  might  yet 
somehow  acquire  a little  more  of  his  imper- 
turbable serenity  and  equanimity  of  temper. 
On  our  way  to  the  Mosque  of  the  Dervishes 


FIRST  DAYS  IN  CAIRO. 


39 


I was  witness  of  a scene  Avhich  curiously 
illustrated  this.  Except  in  that  part  of  Cairo 
which  had  been  built  or  rebuilt  under  the 
administration  of  the  present  Khedive,  the 
streets  are  extremely  narrow,  and  an  ordinary 
carriage  of  European  construction  can  often 
barely  squeeze  its  way  through  them.  As  we 
approached  the  mosque  our  own  carriage  was 
detained  by  a block  in  the  street,  and  while 
waiting  for  the  way  to  be  cleared,  a proces- 
sion of  camels,  loaded  Avith  bales  of  straw, 
attempted  to  pass  between  us  and  the  wall. 
Seated  at  the  entrance  of  a shop,  Avas  a group 
of  elderly  men,  between  whom  and  ourselves 
the  camels  undertook  to  force  their  Avay.  As 
the  first  one  approached,  one  of  the  bales  of 
straAv  Avhich  hung  at  his  side  struck  the  tur- 
ban of  one  of  these  men,  and  knocked  it  into 
his  lap.  Without  even  turning  his  head,  he 
quietly  restored  it  to  its  place,  and  Avent  on 
Avith  his  conversation.  The  next  camel  that 
passed  managed  to  tilt  the  bale  of  straw  Avith 
Avhich  he  Avas  loaded  so  that  it  struck  some 
projecting  Avood-work  above  the  same  man’s 
head,  and  dusted  him  all  over  Avith  a fine 
powder  of  dirty  chaff.  As  before,  however, 
he  made  no  sign,  and  I Avas  admiring  his 
placid  composure,  Avhen  a third  camel,  ap- 


40 


FIRST  DAYS  FY  CAIRO. 


preaching,  contrived  to  convert  his  bale  of 
straw  into  a most  effective  catapult,  with 
which,  striking  the  patient  tradesman  square- 
ly in  the  back,  he  knocked  him  and  his 
chair  completely  over.  Now,  said  I,  we 
shall  hear  what  an  Oriental  can  do  in  the 
way  of  anathema  when  he  is  aroused. 
But  no ; the  elderly  victim  of  these  repeated 
assaults  simply  gathered  himself  up,  shook 
the  dust  and  chaff  from  the  skirts  of  his  gar- 
ments, and  sat  down,  without  a word. 

There  is,  to  be  sure,  another  side  to  this, 
which  is  not  so  attractive.  One  is  constantly 
pained,  in  Egypt,  to  see  the  apathy  of  most 
people  as  to  what  Mr.  Greg  has  called  “ reme- 
diable evils.”  Dirt,  and  the  diseases  which 
are  simply  consequent  upon  dirt,  are  among 
these,  and  it  is  deplorable  to  see  how  utterly 
indifferent  people  are  to  dirt  when  there  is 
not  the  slightest  excuse  for  it.  With  the  very 
poor,  who  are  in  the  vast  majority,  and  who 
live  in  the  most  wretched  hovels,  which  are 
little  more  than  mud  huts,  neatness  or  even 
cleanliness  is  scarcely  possible ; but  it  is  often 
as  rare  among  those  who  are  well  to  do  and 
who  have  both  means  and  servants  at  their 
command.  At  the  request  of  the  ladies  of 
our  party,  our  dragoman  brought  his  wife  and 


FIRST  DATS  IN  CAIRO. 


41 


infant  to  see  them,  and  it  was  hard  to  say 
which  was  the  more  noticeable,  the  costliness 
and  elegance  of  the  lady’s  attire  or  the  dirty 
and  neglected  appearance  of  her  child.  It 
was  quite  in  vain  that  an  attempt  was  made 
to  instil  into  the  mind  of  this  Egyptian 
mother  some  American  ideas  of  neatness,  and 
some  one  dryly  suggested  that  it  was  a gracious 
providence  which  ordered  that  Moses  in  his 
infancy  should  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
his  own  mother  as  his  nurse,  instead  of  having 
had  to  struggle  up  to  manhood  through  suc- 
cessive and  superincumbent  layers  of  Egyp- 
tian household  dirt.  When  it  was  intimated 
to  our  native  visitor  that  she  might  at  least  so 
far  exert  herself  as  to  keep  the  flies  out  of  her 
baby’s  eyes,  the  suggestion  was  received  with 
a chorus  of  laughter  from  herself  and  her 
attendants.  And  yet  the  simple  neglect  to  do 
this  thing  is  one  of  the  most  fruitful  causes 
in  propagating  the  national  scourge  of  oph- 
thalmia with  which  Egyptians  are  so  commonly 
affected. 

What  seems  to  be  wanted,  therefore,  if 
Egypt  is  ever  to  be  restored  to  anything  like 
its  former  greatness,  is  to  awaken  in  the 
breasts  of  its  people  a certain  measure  of 
discontent  with  things  as  they  are.  Could 


42 


FIRST  DATS  IX  CAIRO. 


this  be  combined  with  that  absence  of  irrita- 
bility, and  that  patience  under  evils  which  are 
not  remediable,  they  would  certainly  be  one 
of  the  most  successful  as  well  as  most  agree- 
able peoples  under  the  sun.  The  nation  that 
built  the  Pyramids  (whether  we  choose  to 
accept  Mr.  Piazzi  Smith’s  view,  and  find  in 
those  huge  structures  the  key  to  almost  all 
scientific  and  theological  mysteries  or  not) 
must  have  exceptional  capabilities  of  achieve- 
ment; and  although  one  cannot  admire  the 
austere  exactions  in  the  way  of  taxation  which 
characterize  the  government  of  the  present 
Khedive,  it  is  still  matter  for  congratulation 
that  he  has  shown  himself  so  ready  to  learn 
of  other  nations,  and  has  already  done  so 
much  to  better  the  sanitary  condition  of  his 
capital,  if  no  more.  It  is  not  a great  while 
since  the  plague  was  a periodic  visitation  in 
Cairo;  but  the  Khedive  has,  by  straightening 
its  streets  and  tearing  down  large  masses  of 
fever-breeding  dwellings,  really  inaugurated  a 
new  system  of  ventilation,  and  Europeans 
now  pass  the  Summer  there  with  as  little  risk, 
and  with  less  discomfort,  they  maintain,  than 
we  do  at  home.  “ Do  you  not  find  the  Sum- 
mer heats  very  trying?  ” I asked  of  Dr.  Lan- 
sing, the  head  of  the  American  mission  here. 


ARAB  TEMPLE. 


43 


“Somewhat  so,  at  times,”  was  his  answer, 
“but,  on  the  whole,  less  so  than  those  of  New 
York.”  And  if  it  were  otherwise,  the  per- 
manent resident  has  only  to  retire  to  north- 
ern Syria,  where  the  perpetual  snows  of 
Mount  Lebanon  will  give  him  beneath  its 
shadow,  as  I am  assured  by  those  who  habitu- 
ally resort  to  it,  one  of  the  most  bracing  and 
delightful  climates  in  the  world. 


V. 

yivnh 

A Day  in  the  Mosque  of  Mohat>imed  Ali. 

Mention  has  already  been  made  of  a service 
which  some  of  us  witnessed  in  a Mosque  of 
the  Dancing  Dervishes  on  the  day  of  our  ar- 
rival in  Cairo.  I did  not,  however,  refer  to 
the  building,  because  it  was  in  every  way  in- 
significant and  ordinary ; but  in  this  respect 
the  dervishes’  mosques,  whether  of  the  dancing 
or  howling  fraternities,  are  utterly  unlike  many 


44 


AX  ARAB  TEJIPLB. 


of  the  Mohammedan  places  of  worship  in  Cairo, 
which  are  singularly  impressive  and  beautiful. 

The  first  of  these  which  I happened  to  see 
was  the  iMosque  of  Mohammed  Ali,  which  is 
situated  within  the  enclosure  known  as  the 
Citadel,  built  by  Saladin  in  1166,  of  stone 
brought  from  the  small  Pyramids  of  Geezeh. 
Since  my  visit  to  it  I have  seen  every  other 
mosque  with  any  pretensions  to  architectural 
beauty  in  Cairo,  only  to  return  to  it  from  all 
of  them  with  increased  delight  and  admira- 
tion. I know  how  heretical  this  opinion  will 
seem  to  many  travellers  in  Egypt,  for  is  it 
not  written  in  “ Murray  ” that  “ it  has  not  the 
pure  Oriental  character  of  other  works  in 
Cairo,”  that  “its  minarets,  which  are  of  the 
Turkish  extinguisher  order,  are  painfully 
elongated,  in  defiance  of  all  proportion,”  that 
“ the  decoration  of  the  interior  is  in  very  bad 
taste,  and  the  wretched  lanterns  strung  about 
in  every  direction  help  to  offend  the  eye  ? ” 
Such  dogmatic  criticism,  generously  sprinkled 
with  vigorous  adjectives,  is  sufficient  to  silence 
the  most  enthusiastic  admiration,  and  I was 
not  altogether  surprised  to  hear  an  accom- 
plished American  whom  I met  in  the  mosque 
— and  who,  if  I were  to  mention  his  name, 
would  be  universally  credited  with  abundant 


A.V  ARAB  TEMPLE. 


45 


courage  of  opinion — reply  doubtfully  to  my 
warm  expressions  of  admiration,  “Yes,  but 
you  know  Murray  says  it  is  very  bad.”  It 
undoubtedly  true  that  the  Mosque  of 
Mohammed  Ali  is  less  purely  Oriental  in  its 
character  than  others  in  Cairo  ; but  then  it  is 
hard  to  understand  why  a people  should  not 
write  its  history  in  the  structures  which  it 
rears  as  well  as  in  the  books  which  it  prints  ; 
and  as  Egypt  has  more  than  once  known  the 
presence  of  western  conquerors,  it  is  scarcely 
surprising  that  something  that  is  not  wholly 
Oriental  should  reveal  itself  here  and  there  in 
her  architecture.  That  there  is  anything  in- 
congruous with  its  surroundings  or  inharmoni- 
ous in  itself,  to  be  found  in  this  noble  mosque 
I venture  respectfully  to  deny.  As  to  its  in- 
terior decoration,  it  would  perhaps  be  a very 
fair  question.  What,  in  the  adornment  of  an 
eastern  mosque,  is  good  taste  ? There  is  a 
great  deal,  unquestionably,  that  is  coarse  and 
crude,  but  in  this  respect  there  is  nothing  that, 
compared  with  multitudes  of  famous  buildings 
in  Egypt,  is  exceptional,  and  while  the  details 
are  often  lacking  in  elegance  and  delicacy  the 
general  effect  is  full  of  dignity  and  genuine 
grandeur. 

As  you  put  off  your  shoes  at  the  outer  door 


46 


AN  ARAB  TEMPLE. 


of  the  mosque  you  enter  a beautiful  marble- 
paved  court,  or  cloister,  the  whole  aspect  of 
which  appeals  alike  to  your  sentiment  of 
reverence  and  your  love  of  artistic  fitness.  It 
is  so  absolutely  pure  and  white  and  stainless 
that  you  own  instinctively  that  to  tread  its 
precincts  with  shoes  stained  with  the  travel 
of  the  dusty  streets  would  be  indeed  a verita- 
ble profanation.  You  go  to  the  graceful 
fountain  which  stands  in  the  centre,  honoring 
the  Moslem  reverence  that  will  not  enter  its 
holy  place  with  unwashed  hands  or  feet ; and 
when  one  stands  within  the  richly-decorated 
doorway  he  must  be  dull  or  prejudiced  in- 
deed if  he  does  not  confess  to  the  combined 
sense  of  majesty  and  splendor  with  which 
its  lofty  proportions  and  brilliant  coloring  fill 
his  mind.  Even  the  “ wretched  lanterns,” 
which  are  simply  globes  of  clear  glass,  with- 
out the  faintest  hint  of  color  or  decoration, 
somehow  fell  in,  to  my  barbaric  and  Ameri- 
can vision,  with  the  general  veneration  for 
light  as  a symbol  of  the  Source  of  light  which 
is  so  characteristic  of  all  eastern  religions, 
and  scarcely  less  of  that  great  body  of  east- 
ern Christians  whom  we  know  generally  as 
the  Greek  Church.  Indeed,  it  seemed  at  first 
a curious,  but,  after  a few  moments’ reflection. 


^jV  ARAB  TEMPLE. 


47 


not  an  unnatural  association  of  ideas  to  find 
myself  comparing  the  Mosque  of  Mohammed 
Ali  with  the  famous  Russo-Greek  church 
known  as  St.  Isaac’s,  which  I had  seen  a few 
months  before  in  St.  Petersburg.  The  latter 
is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  great  ecclesiastical 
structures  of  the  world,  and  yet  I am  con- 
strained to  own  that  it  never  produced  upon 
me  the  effect  of  the  Mosque  of  the  Citadel 
(as  it  is  more  familiarly  called)  in  Cairo.  The 
sense  of  height,  of  splendor  and  religious 
appropriateness,  instead  of  diminishing  con- 
tinually increased,  and  one  could  understand 
and  pardon  the  impulsiveness  of  a somewhat 
effusive  English  lady  who,  during  our  stay  at 
Cairo,  was  seen  to  prostrate  herself  in  the 
mosque  in  Oriental  fervor  of  posture  and  mien. 

Undoubtedly  this  feeling,  whether  experi- 
enced in  the  Mosque  of  Mohammed  Ali  or 
any  other,  is  in  part  to  be  explained  by  the 
contagion  of  example.  Somebody  has  said 
that  there  is  a way  of  participating  in  public 
worship  among  Christian  nations  which,  if 
only  it  could  generally  obtain,  would  compel 
imitation  from  lookers-on.  And  one  could 
understand  this  in  watching  the  individual 
Mohammedan  worshipper.  Unfamiliar  as 
must  be  Frank  faces  and  Frank  costumes — 


48 


AN  ARAB  TEMPLE. 


unwelcome  as  must  be,  according  to  all  the 
ideas  of  the  l\Ioslem,  the  presence  of  Frank 
women — yet  the  worshippers  in  the  Mosque 
of  2^Iohammed  Ali  never  turned  their  heads, 
or  evinced  in  any  way  the  slightest  con- 
sciousness of  our  presence.  On  the  floor 
of  the  vast  building,  which  was  unincum- 
bered with  any  pews,  chairs,  or  sittings  of 
any  sort,  and  covered  only  with  Turkish 
rugs  or  carpets  scattered  here  and  there, 
they  were  dotted,  kneeling,  standing,  or 
prostrate  with  their  foreheads  to  the  ground, 
and  wearing  an  air  of  the  most  profound 
seriousness  and  intentness.  It  was  just  at 
sunset,  and  the  lofty  building  was  flooded 
with  the  last  gleams  of  the  departing  day; 
but  the  worshippers,  as  they  prayed  here  and 
there,  were  turned  all  alike  with  their  faces 
toward  the  East.  I wish  I could  at  all  de- 
scribe the  expression  of  those  faces.  I have 
spoken  of  their  intentness,  but  the  word  is 
equally  feeble  and  insufficient.  It  was  at 
once  absorbed,  inquisitive,  and  penetrating; 
and  as  one  stood  watching  the  dusky  coun- 
tenances turned  so  fixedly  toward  the  blank 
wall  a few  yards  distant,  he  almost  turned  to 
see  what  it  was  beyond  that  blank  wall 
which  the  Arab  devotee  seemed  to  be  gaz- 


AN  ARAB  TEMPLE. 


49 


ing  at  so  earnestly.  One  of  the  ninety-nine 
names  of  God  in  the  Mohammedan  ritual 
is  “ The  Revealer,”  and  we  could  not  but 
breathe  the  prayer  that  somehow  He  whom 
they  so  blindly  sought  might  show  Himself 
to  these  simple  but  most  fervent  worshippers. 

As  we  lingered  to  watch  them,  two  or 
three  young  men,  pilgrims  on  their  way  to 
make  their  annual  visit  to  the  tomb  of  the 
prophet  at  Mecca,  entered  the  mosque,  evi- 
dently for  the  first  time.  Children  of  the 
desert,  as  their  whole  garb  and  bearing 
showed  them  to  be,  their  air  and  conduct 
were  precisely  such  as  one  would  expect 
from  children.  They  fingered  curiously  the 
railing  of  the  enclosure  within  which  is  Mo- 
hammed Ali’s  tomb,  and  wandered  around 
the  whole  interior  circumference  of  the 
building,  submitting  everything  that  they 
saw  to  the  double  test  of  sight  and  touch. 
Nothing  escaped  them,  and  it  was  only 
when  they  had  thoroughly  satisfied  their  cu- 
riosity that  it  occurred  to  them  to  think  of 
their  devotions. 

Nothing  could  be  more  different  than  the 
scene  which,  when  we  turned  to  a corner  of 
the  mosque  near  the  tomb  of  the  founder, 
confronted  us.  In  the  centre  of  a small 


4 


50 


ARAB  TEMPLE. 


group  who  were  gathered  about  him  in 
half-kneeling,  half-sitting  postures,  sat  an 
elderly  man  upon  a rug,  which  he  had  evi- 
dently brought  with  him,  expounding  the 
Koran.  Most  of  his  handful  of  hearers  had 
copies  of  the  Koran,  with  which  they  followed 
him,  and  many  of  them  did  not  hesitate  to 
interrupt  him  repeatedly  with  questions.  It 
was  a scene  alike  for  the  painter  and  the  stu- 
dent. There  were  no  two  attitudes  alike,  and 
yet  all  were  equally  graceful  and  easy.  Here 
and  there  was  a pupil  whose  eager  face  and 
incessantly  acquiescent  nod  made  one  envy 
the  facility  and  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he 
followed  his  preceptor ; and  what  was  most 
curious,  though  the  whole  process  of  ex- 
pounding and  hearing  and  answering  ques- 
tions was  going  on  in  an  ordinary"  colloquial 
tone,  none  of  the  adjacent  worshippers 
seemed  to  be  in  the  slightest  degree  dis- 
turbed by  it.  A looker-on  would  have 
discovered  in  the  whole  scene  a suggestion 
worthy  of  the  consideration  of  the  advo- 
cates, in  Christian  lands,  of  what  are  known 
as  free  and  open  churches.  In  all  the  vast 
area  there  were,  as  I have  said,  no  seats, 
benches,  or  chairs,  no  reserved  places  which 
could  be  purchased  by  wealth  or  caste.  The 


THE  MOSQUES  OF  CAIRO.  5 I 

whole  was  covered  with  carpets,  and  was 
equally  free  to  all ; and  the  opportunities 
which  this  absence  of  fixtures  afforded  for 
utilizing  any  part  of  the  sacred  edifice  in  the 
way  I have  indicated  for  little  knots  of  stu- 
dents of  their  sacred  volume,  above  all,  the 
absolute  freedom  with  which,  at  all  hours  of 
the  day,  every  part  of  the  splendid  building 
was  placed  at  the  unreserved  disposal  of  the 
humblest  worshipper,  suggested  that  here, 
too,  was  something  worthy  of  the  imitation 
of  those  who  happen  to  be  the  guardians  of 
the  sacred  buildings  of  a purer  faith. 


VI. 

^osijucs  of  6airo, 

Scenes  in  Egypt's  University  — A Notable 
Temple. 


It  would  not  be  easy  to  imagine  a greater 
contrast  to  the  scene  of  dignified  and  hushed 
quietude  which  we  found  in  the  Mosque 


52 


THE  MOSQUES  OF  CAIRO. 


of  the  Citadel  than  that  ^vhich  saluted  us, 
a few  days  later,  when  we  went  to  visit  the 
Mosque  of  Azhar,  or  the  “ Splendid  Mosque,” 
as  it  is  called. 

Here,  certainly,  no  one  could  find  fault 
with  the  architecture  on  the  score  of  its  de- 
parture from  the  traditions  of  Oriental  art ; 
and  while  the  more  than  four  hundred  col- 
umns with  which  its  interior  is  adorned  break 
up  the  perspective  in  a somewhat  vexatious 
way,  they  produce  a labyrinthian  effect  which 
is  very  pleasing  and  novel.  They  are  of 
granite,  porphyry,  and  marble  taken  from  old 
Egyptian  temples,  and  as  one  threaded  his 
way  among  them  the  very  natural  speculation 
arose  : What  if  these  relics  of  ancient  great- 
ness could  each  have  for  a little  while  the 
gift  of  speech  and  relate  to  the  traveller  who 
visits  them  to-day  the  scenes  and  events  of 
other  and  grander  days  in  which  they  bore 
their  part  ! What  “ sermons  in  stones  ” one 
might  hearken  to  if  only  they  could  tell  us 
where  originally  they  stood,  and  of  what 
long  ago  they  were  the  witnesses ! 

Surely  those  scenes  must  have  been  widely 
different  from  the  surroundings  amidst  which 
they  find  themselves  to-day,  for  at  present 
the  Mosque  of  Azhar  is  also  the  College  of 


THE  MOSQUES  OF  CAIRO.  53 

Cairo,  and,  in  fact,  the  principal  University  of 
the  East.  It  includes  within  itself  two  large 
courts,  with  which  are  connected  several 
smaller  porticoes,  and  when  we  entered  it  all 
these  were  thronged  with  students  from  all 
parts  of  Egypt  and  the  East,  either  gathered 
about  their  favorite  professors  or  engaged  in 
study.  Whatever  else  they  may  or  may  not 
acquire,  it  would  be  impossible  to  study  at 
all  amid  such  a Babel  of  sounds  without 
sooner  or  later  acquiring  a considerable 
power  of  abstracting  the  mind  from  outward 
interruptions.  At  the  first  glance  the  great 
court  which  we  entered  seemed  to  be  a scene 
of  utter  confusion.  The  first  group  which 
caught  my  eye  consisted  of  two  young  gentle- 
men who,  having  reached  a point  of  differ- 
ence as  to  the  interpretation  of  the  Koran, 
which  was  lying  at  their  feet,  were  engaged, 
with  considerable  vigor,  both  of  speech  and 
action,  in  beating  their  ideas  into  each  others’ 
heads.  Having  continued  this  process  for 
some  time,  and  being  apparently  as  far  from 
a harmonious  conclusion  of  their  disi^ute  as 
when  they  began,  suddenly,  without  a moment’s 
warning,  each  spat  in  the  other’s  face,  and 
then  they  both  straightway  sat  down  in  the 
most  amicable  fashion,  as  if  this  exchange  of 


54 


THE  MOSQUES  OF  CAIRO. 


insults  had  somehow  cleared  the  air,  and 
brought  them  to  a state  of  cordial  and  com- 
l^lete  theological  agreement. 

Passing  on,  we  came  to  another  group  of 
still  younger  students,  who  were  tormenting 
one  of  their  number  by  snatching  his  fez,  or 
tarboosh,  from  his  head,  and  tossing  it  from 
hand  to  hand.  I was  reflecting  how  entirely 
western  and  familiar  was  the  aspect  of  this 
youthful  sport,  when  an  official  personage 
suddenly  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  group, 
and  with  a few  well-directed  blows  from  a 
heavy  knotted  rope  sent  them  flying  in  all 
directions.  But,  amid  all  this  confusion, 
groups  of  middle-aged  men  engaged  in  in- 
tensely earnest  debate,  or  solitary  students 
poring  over  their  books,  and  reading  or 
memorizing,  apparently  in  utter  unconscious- 
ness of  what  was  going  on  about  them,  were 
to  be  seen  on  every  hand.  The  University 
was  formerly  handsomely  endowed,  but  was 
deprived  of  its  endowments  by  the  late 
Mohammed  Ali,  and  at  present  the  professors 
receive  no  salaries,  neither  do  the  students 
pay  any  fees.  The  professors,  however,  are 
not  debarred  from  taking  private  pupils,  after 
the  manner  of  an  English  parson  or  Univer- 
sity tutor,  and  by  these  means  and  from 


THE  MOSQUES  OF  CAIRO.  55 

presents  both  they  and  the  students  maintain 
themselves.  At  present  there  are  ten  thou- 
sand students  in  the  University;  but  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  this  does  not  so  much  argue  a 
zeal  for  learning  as  a desire  to  escape  the 
military  conscription,  which  bears  sometimes 
with  cruel  hardship  upon  a population  so 
small  as  that  of  Egypt,  and  from  which 
students  in  the  national  University  are 
exempt. 

I should  be  sorry,  however,  to  be  under- 
stood as  implying  that  there  is  no  thirst  for 
learning  among  the  Egyptians,  and  still  less 
that  there  is  any  lack  of  a keen  and  intelli- 
gent appreciation  of  its  value  in  these  modern 
days.  An  American  officer,  of  high  rank  in 
the  service  of  the  Khedive,  informed  me  that 
the  latter  asked  him,  some  time  ago,  “ What 
impressed  him  as  the  most  conspicuous  defect 
in  his  army  ? ” Said  my  countryman,  in  re- 
ply, “ This,  your  Highness  : that  it  is  governed 
by  civilians,”  and  then  went  on  to  explain, 
as  his  meaning  in  making  such  an  answer, 
that  the  officers  of  the  army  were  generally 
unable  to  read  and  write,  and  were  almost 
entirely  dependent  upon  their  clerks,  who, 
although  they  were  civilians,  thus  acquired 
and  exercised  an  undue  influence.  The  very 


56  THE  MOSQUES  OF  CAIRO. 

next  day  an  order  was  issued  making  the 
ability  to  read  and  write  an  absolute  condi- 
tion of  promotion  in  the  military  service ; 
and  in  a little  while  this  was  followed  by  an 
order  making  all  furloughs  and  other  special 
privileges  depend  upon  a similar  condition. 
As  a consequence,  in  a few  weeks  the  entire 
army  was  turned  into  a school,  and  in  a year 
from  the  date  of  this  conversation  there  were 
exactly  forty-five  men  in  the  whole  Egyptian 
service  who  could  neither  read  nor  write.  It 
is  impossible  to  hear  of  one  such  fact  without 
realizing  how  excellent  must  be  the  natural 
capabilities  of  a people  who,  after  reach- 
ing adult  years,  can  acquire  knowledge  so 
rapidly. 

This  digression  has  led  me  a little  way 
from  the  topic  to  which  I had  meant  to  con- 
fine myself  in  this  chapter — the  Mosques  of 
Cairo ; and  I have  left  myself  room  to  speak 
only  of  one  other,  the  Mosque  of  Hassaneyn, 
a very  beautiful  building  and  one  of  peculiar 
sacredness,  from  its  containing  as  sacred  rel- 
ics the  head  of  Hoseyn  and  the  hand  of 
Hasan.  Into  the  Mosque  of  the  Citadel,  as 
well  as  some  others,  we  had  obtained  admis- 
sion without  difficulty ; but  here,  as  also  at 
the  Mosque  of  Azhar,  we  were  obliged  to 


TUE  MOSQUES  OF  CAIRO. 


57 


procure  a firman,  and  also  the  attendance  of 
an  officer  from  the  zaptieh^  or  police  station ; 
and  even  then  our  application  for  admission 
was  evidently  not  regarded  with  favor.  In- 
deed, so  far  did  this  distrustful  scrutiny  go  in 
the  Mosque  of  Hassaneyn  that  one  of  the 
officers,  after  requesting  me  to  uncover  my 
head,  repeated  the  request  to  a lady  of  the 
party  who  wore  a very  broad  brimmed  and 
rather  conspicuous  hat.  I thought  of  quot- 
ing St.  Paul  on  the  indecorum  of  allowing 
women  to  be  uncovered  in  the  church,  but 
distrusting  the  officer’s  knowledge  of  the 
English  version,  and  being  unable  to  give 
him  the  Arabic,  I contented  myself  with  a 
frown  and  a negative  gesture,  to  wliich  he 
yielded  with  the  most  cheerful  good  humor, 
as  though  he  had  simply  been  testing  the 
readiness  of  the  Frank  to  yield. 

The  mosque  has  recently  been  restored, 
and  is  a very  perfect  and  exquisitely  beautiful 
specimen  of  Oriental  architecture.  Its  deco- 
rations in  alabaster  and  in  different  colored 
marbles  are  especially  rich,  and  the  whole 
wore  an  air  of  elegance  and  refinement  of 
decoration  which  are  not  common  in  Egyp- 
tian architecture.  We  lingered  amid  its 
beautiful  rows  of  columns,  and  watched  the 


58 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


long  lines  of  devotees  either  kneeling  or 
standing  in  front  of  the  shrines  of  El  Hasan 
and  El  Hoseyn,  until  the  declining  rays  of 
the  sun  reminded  us  that  the  day  was  draw- 
ing to  its  close,  and  that  we  must  hasten, 
before  darkness  set  in,  to  return  to  our 
hotel. 


VII. 


The  Beginning  of  a Pilgrimage  to  Mecca — 
The  Procession  in  the  Streets  of  Cairo — 
Decay  of  Bnthusias?n. 


It  is  a piece  of  good  fortune  to  see  in  Cairo 
any  unusual  ceremony  in  connection  with  the 
Mohammedan  religion  ; for  while  it  may  be 
true  that  no  direct  attempts  to  weaken  the 
hold  of  Mohammedanism  upon  its  disciples 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


59 


have  been  greatly  successful,  it  is  equally  true 
that  various  indirect  influences  have  con- 
spired insensibly  to  modify  and  discourage 
the  enthusiasm  of  its  devotees.  Year  by 
year,  therefore,  the  pomp  and  splendor  of 
religious  processions  is  diminishing,  and  it 
cannot  be  many  years  before  many  customs 
which  are  still  in  vogue  among  the  more  de- 
vout Moslems  will  have  largely  disappeared. 
I shall  speak  of  the  reasons  for  this  further 
on,  but  I do  not  believe  there  is  much  doubt 
about  the  fact,  and  in  view  of  it  it  was  matter 
for  congratulation  that  soon  after  our  arrival 
in  Cairo  there  occurred  the  day  set  apart  for 
the  annual  departure  of  the  pilgrims  to  Mecca. 

This  pilgrimage  is  made  obligatory,  at  least, 
once  in  a lifetime,  upon  every  Mohammedan. 
It  is,  however,  performed  only  by  a small 
proportion  of  those  persons  who  profess  that 
faith,  the  larger  number  excusing  themselves 
on  the  ground  of  domestic  or  business  en- 
gagements, and  wealthy  people  being  in  the 
habit  of  buying  themselves  off  from  the  duty 
by  various  benefactions  to  the  poor.  The 
number  who  do  go,  however,  is  still  so  con- 
siderable as  to  make  an  imposing  procession  ; 
and  though  when  I saw  it  this  procession  was 
simply  moving  from  the  city  to  a point  a few 


6o 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSIOy. 


miles  without  the  walls,  there  to  await  the 
accretions  which  come  to  it  daily  until  its 
departure,  about  two  or  three  weeks  later,  it 
was  already  remarkable  both  for  numbers  and 
enthusiasm. 

It  was  early  in  the  day  when  we  left  our 
hotel  to  go  to  an  open  space  near  the  Citadel, 
from  which  the  procession  starts.  As  we 
drove  through  the  streets  it  was  evident  that 
the  spectacle  was  one  of  general  interest,  for 
they  were  lined  with  throngs  of  people  who 
stood  or  sat  in  groups  or  masses,  arranged  as 
picturesquely  as  if  they  had  been  placed  for 
the  study  of  a painter.  It  was  a series  of 
effects  such  as  one  could  never  hope  to  see  at 
home.  A crowd  with  us,  and,  above  all,  a 
street  crowd,  is  as  unwholesome  an  object, 
whether  to  the  eye  or  ear,  as  one  cares  to 
meet  with ; but  here  there  • was  no  rough 
boisterousness  and  no  bad  costuming.  Closely 
analyzed,  there  would  have  been  found  much 
less  clothing  and  far  more  rags  than  with  us  ; 
but  even  the  water-carriers  and  fellah-women, 
whose  whole  drapery  consisted  of  one  ragged 
square  of  dirty  blue  or  brown  cotton  cloth, 
managed  to  hang  it  about  them  with  a com- 
bined grace  and  freedom  which  might  well 
have  been  the  envy  of  a sculptor  and  the 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


6l 


despair  of  a mantua-maker.  Then  the  fas- 
cinating bits  of  color  in  scarf  or  kaftan  or 
turban,  common  enough,  perhaps,  in  texture, 
when  closely  examined,  but  somehow  almost 
luminous  in  that  clear  Egyptian  sunshine — all 
this  went  to  make  up  a picture  of  mingled 
movement  and  repose  so  bright  and  warm 
and  vivid  that  the  eye  could  not  delight  in  it 
enough. 

We  were  soon  to  see  something  much  more 
imposing,  if  not  so  brilliant.  After  a short 
drive  our  carriage  stopped  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Mosque  of  the  Citadel,  where, 
in  an  open  pavilion,  closed  on  three  of  its 
sides  and  open  on  the  other,  were  arranged 
seats  or  thrones  for  the  Khedive  and  for  the 
two  princes,  his  sons,  as  well  as  places  for  the 
officers  of  the  government  and  other  distin- 
guished guests.  Near  these  we  found  a group 
of  the  representatives  of  our  own  and  foreign 
powers,  and  being  placed  near  them  we  had 
leisure  to  take  in  the  whole  scene. 

It  was  full  of  life,  and  to  a stranger,  of 
course,  full  of  surprises.  One  by  one  the 
members  of  the  household  of  the  Khedive 
and  of  the  Cabinet  arrived  and  took  their 
places  amid  a profusion  of  salaamings  which 
were  repeated  till  they  became  absurd.  Most 


62 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


of  these  personages  were  of  the  light  yellow 
tint  which  is  distinctive  of  the  people  of  the 
Delta,  and  which  is  often  pleasing  to  the  eye 
when  seen  in  connection  with  a rich  Oriental 
costume ; but  among  them  there  arrived  an 
old  gentleman  whom  a profane  American  near 
me  characterized  as  an  “ out-and-out  Fifteenth 
Amendment  party,”  and  whose  color  would 
have  made  an  ebony  statue  turn  pale.  With 
his  grizzled  pate  and  Ethiopian  features,  and, 
worst  of  all,  with  the  shambling,  shuffling 
gait  which  seems  to  be  a distinctive  trait  of 
the  negro,  he  was  a veritable  Sambo ; but  we 
were  rather  surprised  to  hear  that  he  was  a 
conquered  sovereign,  whose  domains  the 
Khedive  had  “ annexed,”  and  who  was  passing 
the  remainder  of  his  days  very  much  more 
comfortably  than  he  ever  lived  before,  doubt- 
less, but  rather  ignominiously,  nevertheless, 
as  a state  prisoner  of  the  ruler  of  Egypt.  He 
was  received  with  every  mark  of  ceremony, 
and  conducted  to  a seat  from  which  he  stared 
at  a scene  that  was  scarcely  less  novel  to  him 
than  to  us. 

We  had  not  long  to  wait  for  the  procession. 
A distant  sound  of  drums,  a stir  among  the 
crowd  who  fringed  the  street  or  stood  clustered 
like  bees  upon  the  neighboring  hillocks  of  sand 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION.  63 

and  rubbish,  and  we  descried  in  the  distance 
the  approach  of  military,  and  the  undulating 
movements  of  a number  of  people  who  were 
riding  upon  camels.  A fragment  of  the  pro- 
cession, composed  of  shabbily-dressed  pil- 
grims, soon  after  filed  past  us,  and  these  were 
followed  by  more  military  and  by  a number, 
of  mounted  men  riding  on  the  camels  we  had 
seen  approaching,  and  beating  the  huge 
copper  kettle-drums  whose  notes  we  had 
heard  in  the  distance,  and  which  were  fastened 
to  their  saddles.  Then  there  were  more 
camels,  some  of  them  dyed  with  senna  and 
some  adorned  with  palms  or  bells.  The 
hardships  of  the  pilgrimage  were  expressively 
prefigured  by  water-skins  borne  by  other 
camels ; and  other  baggage,  made  necessary 
by  the  long  stretches  of  travel  across  the 
desert,  was  loaded  also  upon  camels.  Of 
course,  there  were  a considerable  number  of 
dervishes,  who  from  the  noise  they  made  led 
us  to  believe  that  they  belonged  to  the  howl- 
ing rather  than  the  dancing  denomination  of 
that  sect,  and  following  these  came  some 
Avild-looking  Arabs,  regular  Bedouins,  like 
those  we  had  seen  a few  days  before  in  the 
Mosque  of  the  Citadel. 

There  was  so  much  confusion  and  irregu- 


64 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


larity  in  the  movements  of  the  procession 
that  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  its  various 
details  even  if  it  had  not  required  a life-long 
acquaintance  with  Cairene  Mohammedanism 
to  have  recognized  them.  We  could  see, 
however,  that  there  was  a gradual  increase  of 
splendor  and  solemnity,  and  of  eager  expec- 
tancy on  the  part  of  the  people  who  were 
looking  on,  until  suddenly,  amid  a shrill  shout 
of  excited  enthusiasm,  there  swung  or  rolled 
into  sight  a huge  structure,  borne  upon  the 
back  of  a dromedary,  which  we  were  told  was 
the  covering  for  the  tomb  of  the  Prophet,  on 
its  way  to  be  placed  over  his  sacred  resting- 
place  at  Mecca.  This  structure  consisted  of 
a square  framework  of  wood  with  a pyramidal 
top,  the  whole  having  a cloth  covering  pro- 
fusely embroidered  with  inscriptions  in  Arabic 
text,  wrought  in  gold  upon  a ground  of  red  or 
green  silk,  and  ornamented  with  a silk  fringe 
and  tassels  surmounted  by  silver  bells.  It 
contained  nothing,  we  understood,  but  had 
fastened  to  its  exterior  two  copies  of  the 
Koran,  one  in  book  form  and  the  other  written 
upon  a scroll. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  reverence  with 
which  this  structure  was  treated,  or  the  eager- 
ness with  which  the  crowd  pressed  near  to 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


65 


see  and,  if  possible,  to  touch  it.  It  seemed 
perfectly  reasonable,  therefore,  to  think  it,  as 
we  had  been  told  that  it  was,  the  covering 
intended  for  the  Prophet’s  tomb ; but  an 
authority  whom,  so  far  as  I know,  no  one  has 
as  yet  ventured  to  dispute — I mean  the 
author  of  “ The  Modern  Egyptians  ” — de- 
clares that  this  is  a traveller’s  error,  and  that 
the  mahvial  (which  is  the  name  of  the  struct- 
ure in  question)  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
tomb  of  the  Prophet,  but  has  very  different 
and  much  less  sacred  associations.  Accord- 
ing to  Lane,  a beautiful  Turkish  female  slave, 
wLo  became  wife  of  the  Sultan  Es-Saleh- 
Negur-ed-Deen,  and  who,  on  the  death  of 
his  son,  caused  herself  to  be  acknowledged 
as  Queen  of  Egypt,  performed  the  pilgrimage 
to  Mecca  in  a magnificent  hoddg  (or  covered 
litter)  borne  by  a camel.  This  empty  hoddg 
was  for  several  successive  years  sent  with  the 
caravan,  merely  to  lend  a little  more  state  and 
dignity  to  the  procession.  It  is  very  easy  to 
see  how  such  a custom  grew  into  a fixed 
usage,  the  hoddg  becoming  at  length  the  em- 
blem of  royalty,  and  thus  associating  the 
sovereign  in  the  minds  of  the  people  with  a 
leading  ceremony  of  the  national  religion. 

I have  no  such  knowledge  as  would  war- 
s 


66 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


rant  any  distrust  of  this  explanation  of  the 
mahmal,  but  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  it  is 
“only  this  and  nothing  more”  that  the  com- 
mon people  see  in  it ; for  if  the  mahmal  be 
nothing  more  than  the  Sultan’s  or  Khedive’s 
carriage,  then  there  is  a very  curious  differ- 
ence between  the  veneration  which  the  people 
have  for  the  royal  conveyance  when  borne  by 
a camel  and  when  drawn  by  a pair  of  English 
coach  horses.  I saw  the  Khedive  driving 
about  Cairo  in  an  extremely  well-appointed 
coup^,  but  a large  proportion  of  his  subjects 
did  not  even  turn  to  look  at  it,  and  I am  very 
sure  that  the  most  enthusiastic  loyalist  in 
Egypt  never  embraced  its  panels  or  kissed  its 
wheels.  Something  else,  then,  than  the 
impulse  of  homage  to  royalty  drew  forth 
those  ardent  demonstrations  toward  the 
mahmal  which  we  saw  among  the  Cairene 
spectators  of  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  and  it 
is  hard  to  believe  that  they  themselves  had 
not  come  to  cherish  the  impression  that  it 
had  some  very  close  association  with  the 
tomb  of  their  Prophet. 

At  any  rate,  it  was  much  the  most  conspic- 
uous feature  in  the  procession,  excepting, 
perhaps,  a mounted  pilgrim  whose  extremely 
substantial  outlines  had  little  in  common  with 


rl  PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


67 


the  ethereal  interests  of  a religious  devotee. 
This  pilgrim  was  a dervish,  who  has  made 
the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  annually  for  thirty 
years,  and  who  makes  the  whole  journey  in  a 
state  of  perpetual  motion  and  in  a costume 
best  expressed  by  the  algebraic  sign  minus. 
Indeed,  to  his  waist  this  gentleman  presented 
the  spectacle  of  unadorned  nature,  and  as  he 
was  extremely  fat,  he  reminded  one,  in  his 
sitting  posture,  with  his  limbs  drawn  up,  of 
the  principal  deity  in  a Chinese  Joss-house. 
But  what  was  chiefly  noticeable  was  the  inces- 
sant movement  of  the  head  and  whole  figure, 
from  the  waist  up.  This  was  produced  by 
swaying  or  rather  rolling  the  head  and 
shoulders  so  as  to  make  them  describe,  as 
nearly  as  possible,  a circle,  and  with  such 
constancy  as  must  very  soon  have  produced 
in  any  ordinary  brain  extreme  dizziness. 
When  to  this  was  added  the  undulatory  or 
rather  jerky  motion  of  the  dromedary  on 
which  the  devotee  was  seated,  the  whole  was 
almost  sufficient  to  make  the  mere  spectator 
sea-sick.  As  to  the  condition  in  which,  after 
forty  successive  days  of  such  exercise,  the 
dervish  arrived  at  Mecca,  one  did  not  dare  to 
speculate.  If  he  had  any  intelligent  capacity 
with  which  to  perform  his  devotions  it  must 


68 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


have  been  because,  as  was  the  belief  of  the 
old  Greeks  in  regard  to  the  affections,  the 
lodging-place  of  his  thinking  powers  was 
much  nearer  than  is  usual  to  the  centre  of 
his  system. 

Following  the  dervish  there  came  several 
other  camels  laden  with  the  luggage  of  the 
Emir-el-H6gg,  or  Chief  of  the  Pilgrims,  his 
litter,  etc.,  and  then  one  bearing  the  khazneh, 
or  chest  containing  the  money  for  defraying 
such  expenses  of  the  pilgrimage  as  fall  upon 
the  government.  As  this  approached  the 
pavilion  in  which  we  were  seated,  one  of  the 
princes  advanced  and  placed  a purse  in  the 
hand  of  its  rider,  at  the  same  time  kissing  a 
sacred  relic  or  charm  which  hung  suspended 
from  the  neck  of  the  dromedary.  Then 
there  followed  some  more  military,  and  the 
usual  crowd  of  boys  and  men,  and  the  pro- 
cession passed  out  of  sight  on  its  way  to  the 
extra-mural  camp. 

As  it  vanished,  the  reflection  with  which  I 
began  this  letter  instinctively  recurred  to  the 
mind.  I felt  that  it  was  a spectacle  whose 
chances  of  repetition  are  annually  diminish- 
ing. The  age  of  religious  pilgrimages  has 
largely  gone  by,  and  though  here  and  there, 
as  in  France  lately,  there  may  be  a spasmodic 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


69 


revival  of  such  a custom,  the  amused  curios- 
ity with  which  even  the  great  majority  of  sin- 
cerely religious  people  look  on  is  an  indica- 
tion of  the  hopeless  decay  of  the  spirit  which 
once  inspired  it.  That  spirit  once  burnt  as 
ardently  in  the  breasts  of  our  forefathers  as 
in  the  breast  of  the  most  enthusiastic  Moslem 
to-day ; but  at  the  root  of  it  there  lay  a faith 
in  the  religious  efficacy  of  such  pilgrimages 
which  has  long  ago  died  out  in  Christian 
lands,  and  which  is  already  dying  in  lands 
that  are  not  Christian.  When  modern  trav- 
ellers can  make  a tour  in  what  we  have  been 
wont  to  call  the  Holy  Land  the  framework  on 
which  to  construct  a comic  history  of  their 
adventures,  we  are  somewhat  rudely  and 
painfully  awakened  to  the  fact  that  belief  in 
the  efficacy  of  a journey  to  sacred  scenes  and 
sacred  places  is  wellnigh  extinct,  and  that 
the  world  has  come  to  understand  that  unless 
it  has  grasped  the  lesson  of  a good  man’s  life, 
or  mastered  the  meaning  of  his  teachings,  it 
will  be  of  small  avail  that  it  makes  pilgrim- 
ages to  his  tomb  or  says  prayers  to  his  ashes. 

It  may  be  said  that  these  are  western  and 
not  eastern  ideas,  and  that  there  is  no  evi- 
dence that  there  is  any  decay  of  enthusiasm 
as  to  the  annual  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  on  the 


70 


A PILGRIM  PROCESSION. 


part  of  the  modern  Egyptian.  It  would  be 
answer  enough  to  this  to  say  that  the  most 
exact  and  careful  observer  of  modern  Egypt 
and  its  manners  and  customs— I mean  the 
late  Mr.  Lane — begins  his  own  account  of 
the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  by  saying  ; “ As  this 
procession  is  conducted  with  less  pomp  in 
almost  every  successive  year  ” (the  italics  are 
my  own),  “I  shall  describe  it  as  I first  wit- 
nessed it  during  my  first  visit  to  Egypt.” 
But  if  there  were  no  such  testimony,  it  would 
be  only  necessary  to  compare  the  accounts  of 
travellers  written  twenty  years  ago  with  what 
was  to  be  seen  in  Cairo  on  the  morning  to 
which  I refer.  Indeed,  I could  not  but  think 
that  to  the  devouter  Oriental  minds  who  were 
present  with  us  on  that  November  morning 
under  the  pavilion  in  the  Citadel,  the  most 
conspicuous  accessories  of  the  spectacle  must 
have  been  at  once  painful  and  offensive  in 
their  significance. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Khedive  himself  was 
conspicuous  by  his  absence.  A ceremony 
which  every  Mohammedan  had  been  trained 
to  regard  as  of  profound  import  and  solem- 
nity was  treated  by  him  as  having  so  little  of 
either  that  he  did  not  hesitate  to  neglect  it 
for  the  merely  routine  duties  of  his  office : 


A PILORIM  PROCESSION. 


71 


and  the  persons  who  represented  him  on  the 
sacred  occasion  were,  as  it  seemed  to  a looker- 
on,  unconsciously  but  most  expressively  in- 
dicating their  want  of  sympathy  with  the 
occasion  and  its  surroundings.  As  they  rolled 
up  to  the  pavilion  one  after  another,  in  their 
severely  simple  and  sombre  English  carriages, 
with  a smart  English  groom  upon  the  box, 
and  with  an  entire  establishment  which  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  transported  complete  from 
Hyde  Park,  one  could  not  help  wondering 
how  it  looked  to  those  who  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  see  royalty  riding  on  white  asses  or 
mounted  on  an  Arab  barb.  Then,  too,  the 
costumes  of  the  Princes  and  Pashas,  which 
were  as  hideously  angular  and  European  in 
cut  and  material  as  could  be  conceived,  giv- 
ing these  dusky-skinned  personages,  with 
their  single-breasted  black  frock-coats  and 
trousers  and  red  fezes,  the  effect  of  being  a 
number  of  orthodox  divines  in  rather  fancy 
smoking-caps — what  did  it  all  mean  but  that 
the  manners  (that  is,  the  ideas,  for  the  two 
forever  go  together)  of  the  West  are  insensi- 
bly but  surely  and  steadily  modifying  those 
of  the  East,  and  that  other  and  more  sacred 
customs  than  those  of  dress  and  equipage 
will,  erelong,  decline  and  disappear  before 


72 


SBOPPIXO  IN  GRAND  CAIRO. 


the  pushing  and  aggressive  civilization  of  the 
Frank  ? 

If,  therefore,  one  would  see  the  procession 
of  the  pilgrims  to  Mecca  set  forth  from  Cairo 
with  any  considerable  part  of  its  old  splendor 
and  ceremony,  let  him  not  postpone  doing  so 
too  long;  and  when  at  length  it  shall  become 
to  the  Mohammedan  no  more  than  such  a 
memory  as  to-day  the  Crusades  are  to  Chris- 
tendom, let  us  hope  that  some  worthier  and 
loftier  enthusiasm  may  permanently  replace 
it. 


YIII. 


flopping  m 0aira, 


Queer  Experiences  of  an  American  in  the  . 
J/ ooskee. 


There  is  a story  told  of  a wide-awake 
American  who,  discovering  in  Paris  some  very 
pretty  pencil  cases  at  five  francs  apiece, 
bought  a half  dozen  of  them  with  the  inten- 


SHOFFISG  IN  GRAND  CAIRO. 


73 


tion  of  using  them  as  gifts  to  a few  of  the 
friends  he  had  left  behind  him.  They  were 
made  upon  a simple  but  admirable  mechani- 
cal principle,  and,  if  not  of  solid  gold,  looked 
enough  like  it  to  answer  the  demands  of 
ordinary  criticism.  Best  of  all,  they  had  the 
charm  to  the  eye  of  their  purchaser  of  abso- 
lute novelty,  and  he  drew  a sigh  of  relief  as 
he  reflected  that  he  had  found  something 
which  inquisitive  friendship  at  home  had 
never  even  heard  of.  Reaching  London  on 
his  way  to  New  York,  he  was  so  fortunate  as 
to  find  some  more  of  them  in  a shop  in  Re- 
gent street,  and  it  added  to  the  satisfaction 
with  which  he  bought  them  that  the  shopman 
there  only  asked  him  two  shillings  apiece 
for  them.  He  eagerly  bought  another  half 
dozen,  and  posted  on  to  Liverpool  to  take 
ship  for  New  York.  Looking  in  at  a shop 
window  in  Liverpool,  while  waiting  for  the 
hour  when  the  steam-tug  should  leave 
Prince’s  dock,  his  eye  fell  upon  some  more 
pencil  cases,  and  glad  of  an  opportunity  to 
reinforce  his  supply  of  an  article  for  which 
he  anticipated  so  considerable  a demand,  he 
entered  the  shop  and  began  negotiations  for 
one  more  half  dozen.  He  had  not  caught 
the  shopman’s  answer  as  to  the  price  until 


74 


SHOPPING  IN  GRAND  CAIRO. 


the  parcel  was  made  up  and  placed  in  his 
hand.  Drawing  out  his  purse,  therefore,  he 
gave  him  an  expressively  interrogatory  look 
which  immediately  drew  forth  the  reply, 
“Eighteen  pence  apiece,  sir.”  “Singular,” 
said  our  countryman,  somewhat  surprised, 
“but  it  seems  that  the  further  one  gets 
from  Paris  the  cheaper  articles  of  Parisian 
manufacture  become.  Five  francs  apiece  in 
Paris  for  these  pencils,  two  shillings  apiece  in 
London,  and  eighteen  pence  in  Liverpool. 
At  this  rate,  I should  have  done  better  by 
waiting  until  I reached  New  York.”  “You 
are  about  right,  sir,”  said  the  shopman,  who 
by  this  time  had  his  money  safe  in  his  till. 
“You  are  about  right,  sir,  for  them  pencils  is 
all  made  in  the  States.” 

The  incident  has  an  admonitory  value  as 
indicating  the  danger  of  buying  anything 
abroad  on  the  theory  that  it  is  unknown  at 
home.  In  the  matter  of  shops  and  their 
contents,  Paris,  London,  and  New  York  are 
wellnigh  one,  and  it  requires  a sharp  eye  and 
an  ample  experience  to  discover  anything  in 
either  of  them  that  you  may  not  find  for  sale 
in  both  the  others. 

The  traveller  goes  to  the  bazaars  in  Cairo, 
however,  with  the  comfortable  feeling  that 


SHOPPING  IN  GRAND  CAIRO.  75 

Cairo  is  neither  Paris,  London,  nor  New 
York.  To  buy  something  there,  he  fully 
imagines,  is  to  secure  that  which  will  have, 
at  least,  the  charm  of  rarity.  It  is  not  un- 
likely that,  when  he  gets  home  again,  he  will 
find  himself  mistaken ; for,  after  all,  the 
world  is  very  small,  and  the  products  of  Egypt 
and  Syria  are  well-known  commodities  to 
our  American  commercial  world ; but,  not- 
withstanding this,  shopping  in  Cairo  has  a 
fascination  apart  from  what  is  bought,  and 
any  one  who  has  neglected  the  Mooskee 
has  missed  one  of  the  most  characteristic 
experiences  of  eastern  travel.  The  Mooskee 
is  the  shopkeeping  quarter,  and  twisting 
through  it  are  the  narrow  labyrinths  in  which 
some  of  the  most  exquisite  textures  which 
Oriental  handiwork  can  fashion  are  to  be 
bought. 

Nothing  could  be  more  opposed  to  our 
notion  of  shops  and  shopping  than  what  one 
sees  and  does  here.  It  shocks  one’s  sense  of 
fitness  to  find  dirt  and  artistic  excellence  (and 
much  that  is  sold  in  the  bazaars  at  Cairo  has 
not  a little  of  artistic  excellence)  so  close 
together.;  but  dirt  is  the  dominating  element 
in  the  Cairene  bazaars.  The  street  is  simply 
a dusty  alley,  without  the  semblance  of  a 


76  SHOPPiy^G  IN  GRAND  CAIRO. 


pavement  or  the  remotest  suspicion  of  having 
ever  been  swept  or  cleaned.  The  fine  sand 
of  which  it  is  formed  is  made  into  a paste 
three  or  four  times  a day  by  the  activity  of 
the  Arab  water-carriers,  who,  with  their  hog- 
skins  upon  their  shoulders,  give  you  the  im- 
pression that  they  are  carrying  the  bloated 
carcass  of  a dead  pig.  Into  this  paste  are 
tramped  the  sweepings  of  shops  and  every 
other  imaginable  and  unimaginable  impurity 
which  the  broad  hoofs  of  camels  and  the 
sharp  heels  of  donkeys  have,  year  after  year, 
conspired  to  grind  into  a conglomerate  that 
will  one  day  be  the  despair  of  the  geologist 
of  the  future.  As  you  walk  through  it  or 
over  it  you  are  reminded,  moreover,  that  you 
have  not  all  the  dirt  of  Cairo  under  foot,  but 
that  a very  large  share  of  it  forms  a circulat- 
ing medium  which  is  kept  constantly  in  active 
movement  upon  the  persons  of  its  people. 
These  jostle  against  you  or  are  crowded  into 
your  unwilling  embrace  by  a dense  mass  of 
moving  life,  composed  of  human  beings  of  all 
ages  and  conditions,  and  quadrupeds,  from 
the  slouching,  encrusted,  and  unmannerly 
dromedary,  who  ignores  your  right , of  way 
with  the  most  serene  contempt,  all  the  way 
to  the  most  miserable  species  of  dog  which 


SHOPPING  IN  GRAND  CAIRO.  77 

can  possibly  exist  outside  of  Constantinople. 
Above  your  head,  as  you  look  up  to  escape 
the  constant  succession  of  blind,  maimed, 
and  unfortunate  people  who  clamor  as  long 
as  you  are  in  sight  for  backsheesh.,  you  observe 
that  a ricketty,  modern  framework  extends 
across  the  street  from  roof  to  roof,  on  which 
are  loosely  laid  wooden  slats  to  shut  out  the 
mid-day  sun.  It  adds  to  your  composure  to 
see  that  most  of  these  slats  have  been  dis- 
placed by  the  wind,  and  that  a breath  of  air, 
apparently,  will  be  sufficient  to  send  them 
rattling  down  from  a height  of  fifty  feet  upon 
your  head. 

At  such  a moment  you  turn  to  the  threshold 
of  the  shop  to  which  you  have  been  led,  in 
the  hope  that  there  at  least  you  will  find 
something  more  attractive ; but  even  the  shop 
is,  or  seems  to  be,  a shabby  imposture.  It  is 
only  a wretched  hole  in  the  wall,  and  its 
entire  resources  seem  to  be  a half-dozen 
pieces  of  dusty  stuff-goods.  You  look  long 
enough  to  take  in  the  situation  and  turn  to 
walk  away  in  disgust.  Your  dragoman,  how- 
ever, mildly  begs  that  you  will  not  be  im- 
patient. “ Seat  yourself,”  he  entreats,  “ upon 
the  divan  ” — which  is  simply  the  edge  of  the 
raised  platform  that  forms  the  floor  of  the 


78  SHOPPING  IN  GRAND  CAIRO. 

shop  (on  which,  meanwhile,  the  proprietor  is 
sitting  with  an  air  often  of  profound  indif- 
ference)— “ and  make  known  your  wants.” 
You  wish  to  see  some  shawls.  Your  wish  is 
translated  to  the  merchant,  and  he  rises, 
evincing  now  at  length  something  of  affable 
alacrity,  and  produces  from  some  recess  be- 
hind him  a bundle.  This  is  placed  before 
you,  and  with  abundant  deliberation  he  ex- 
tracts from  it  and  unfolds  before  you  a — 
table-cover.  For  an  instant  it  arrests  your 
attention,  and  you  look  at  it,  especially  if  it 
be  something  unfamiliar,  with  a faint  sign  of 
interest.  You  are  not  going  to  housekeeping 
in  Cairo,  and  you  remind  your  dragoman  that 
you  asked  not  for  table-cloths  but  for  shawls. 
This  being  laboriously  explained  to  the  mer- 
chant, he  smiles  assentingly,  and  immediately 
produces  another  package  of  table-cloths, 
much  rarer  and  handsomer  than  the  others, 
“ No  ! No ! ” you  say  impatiently,  determined 
not  to  be  lured  in  this  way  into  unintentional 
extravagance,  “ shawls  ! ” “ shawls ! ” At  once 
the  table-cloths  are  shoved  aside,  and  the 
merchant  places  another  parcel  before  you, 
containing  embroidered  jackets.  Cunning 
wretch ! It  is  as  if  he  had  been  secretly 
advised  of  your  weakness.  As  you  have 


SHOPPING  IN  GRAND  CAIRO.  79 

watched  the  gay  equipages  of  his  Highness 
the  Khedive,  and  of  the  pashas  who  are 
attached  to  the  court,  nothing  has  impressed 
you  so  much  as  the  rich  and  picturesque 
dress  of  the  sets,  or  runner  (most  of  the 
handsomer  equipages  preceded  by  two),  whose 
fleet  feet  and  sharp  cries  have  announced 
their  approach.  Now,  much  the  most  splen- 
did part  of  the  dress  is  the  embroidered 
jacket,  which  may  easily  be  made  a striking 
feature  of  feminine  costume ; and  so  you  are 
in  the  toils,  before  you  know  it.  One  after 
another  these  gay  and  graceful  vestments  are 
turned  over;  in  a few  moments  half  a 
dozen  have  been  put  aside  “on  approbation,” 
and  the  chances  are  a thousand  to  one  that 
you  will  not  be  allowed  to  escape  without 
taking  them  with  you. 

The  indulgence  of  this  momentary  weak- 
ness has,  however,  the  usual  effect  of  making 
you  resolve  upon  unswerving  firmness  in  the 
future.  Once  more  you  cry  shall!  shall! 
(shawls ! shawls !)  in  a tone  as  imperious  as 
you  can  command.  It  makes  no  difference. 
When  this  placid  Oriental  has  shown  you 
everything  that  he  has  to  sell,  has  exhausted 
every  opportunity  of  inducing  you  to  buy 
what  you  do  not  want,  then  he  will  produce 


8o 


SHOPPING  IN  GRAND  CAIRO. 


what  you  ask  for.  At  this  point  the  contest 
assumes  an  entirely  new  character.  You  not 
only  want  a shawl,  but  a handsome  one.  Ap- 
parently, however,  the  dealer  prefers  to  keep 
his  handsome  shawls  and  sell  only  those  that 
are  inferior.  Of  course  this  is  a part  of  east- 
ern artifice,  but  underneath  it  there  must 
exist,  I think,  something  of  that  preference  to 
cling  to  values  in  kind,  which  is  so  distinctive 
of  Oriental  ideas  of  wealth.  I shall  not  soon 
forget  an  afternoon  which  was  passed  before 
the  shelves  of  a Cairene  merchant  whose 
whole  stock  in  trade  apparently  consisted  of 
two  insignificant  piles  of  cheap  shawls,  but 
who  proved  to  be  possessed  of  rarest  fabrics 
of  exquisite  beauty,  both  of  pattern  and  text- 
ure. If  we  had  been  drawing  his  teeth,  one 
by  one,  he  could  not  have  surrendered  them 
with  greater  reluctance  than  he  evinced  in 
producing  his  goods ; and  when  my  compan- 
ion turned  away  at  length  without  making 
any  purchase,  my  own  relief  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  negotiations  was  not  greater  than 
that  with  which  the  shawl-dealer  put  away 
his  goods  and  saw  his  chance  of  exchanging 
them  for  English  sovereigns  vanishing  in  the 
distance.  To  his  view  British  gold  had,  ap- 
parently, a more  doubtful  value  than  his 


i4.\  LfitJUMJ  UAlIiU. 


8i 


precious  goods,  and  his  consciousness  of 
wealth  was  far  deeper  when  turning  them 
over  on  his  shelv'es  than  in  rattling  any 
amount  of  money  in  his  pocket. 

The  first,  and  possibly  the  second,  expe- 
rience of  this  kind  has  in  it  enough  that  is 
at  once  novel  and  amusing  to  make  it  at  least 
endurable;  but  when  one  has  many  purchases 
to  make,  and  only  a short  time  in  which  to 
make  them,  it  becomes  an  almost  intolerable 
vexation  ; for  when  one  has  found  the  things 
he  wants,  the  business  of  fixing  upon  their 
price  and  paying  for  them  becomes  a matter 
not  merely  of  hours,  but  sometimes  of  days. 
The  dealer  invariably  names  a price  which 
is  double  or  treble  the  amount  which  he  will 
accept,  or  which  he  expects  you  to  pay. 
Then  comes  the  chaffering  and  huckstering 
in  which  eastern  shopkeepers  take  such  keen 
delight.  You  offer  half  what  he  asks,  and 
he  at  once  places  the  article  in  your  hand, 
saying,  “ Take  it,  it  is  a gift,”  which  is  simply 
an  expressive  way  of  telling  you  that  that 
is  what  your  proposition  would  substantially 
amount  to.  Then  there  follows  the  panto- 
mime of  silent  departure  on  the  one  side, 
and  glances  of  reproachful  entreaty  on  the 

other.  You  turn  to  go,  and  have  reached 
6 


82 


SHOPPING  IN  GPAND  CAIRO. 


the  middle  of  the  street,  when  you  hear 
some  one  crying : “ Three  hundred  piasters  ! ” 
You  had  been  asked  four  hundred  at  first, 
and  had  offered  two.  Thus  reluctantly,  and 
not  until  your  morning  has  been  wellnigh 
consumed,  the  merchant  comes  to  terms,  and 
you  secure,  at  an  expense  of  some  hours’ 
wrangling,  what  you  could  have  purchased 
at  home  in  ten  minutes.  A friend  was  waited 
upon  at  our  hotel  by  an  East  India  merchant, 
who  brought  with  him  several  parcels  of 
handsome  goods.  A selection  was  made 
from  them  of  a number  of  articles,  and  the 
prices  of  them  taken  down  from  his  lips,  and 
added  up  in  his  presence.  The  sum  total 
was  rather  large,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that 
he  had  not  the  slightest  expectation  of 
receiving  it.  He  was  offered  one  third,  and 
refused  it  indignantly,  retiring  almost  im- 
mediately with  his  parcels.  I confess  I 
thought  the  offer  too  little,  and  did  not 
wonder  that  he  refused  it;  but  the  event 
proved  how  little  I was  acquainted  with  the 
ways  of  the  eastern  tradesman.  The  nego- 
tiation went  on  for  nearly  a week — the  dealer 
coming  and  going  with  a patience  which  was 
wholly  unintelligible  to  a western  mind ; but 
at  the  end  of  that  time  he  did  what  he  meant 


SIJOPFI.XG  jy  GRAyo  CAIRO.  83 

to  do  all  along,  and  accepted  the  sum  origi- 
nally offered  him. 

There  is  undoubtedly  much  in  all  this 
that  is  vexatious  to  persons  to  whom  it  is 
unfamiliar,  but  it  is  somewhat  hasty  to  pro- 
nounce it,  as  many  do,  intentionally  dis- 
honest. As  I have  intimated,  a large  element 
of  the  charm  of  traffic  with  these  people  is 
the  encounter  of  wits  for  which  it  affords  an 
opportunity,  and  in  addition  to  this  it  must 
not  be  forgotten  that,  in  the  matter  of  those 
things  especially  which  the  traveller  buys, 
there  is  not  that  close  competition  which  so 
definitely  fixes  prices  Avith  us.  Curiously- 
carved  ivory,  rare  patterns  in  rugs  and  scarfs, 
odd  devices  in  brass,  silver,  or  gold,  have  a 
fluctuating  value  according  to  the  necessi- 
ties of  the  dealer  and  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
buyer.  We  are  familiar  enough  at  home 
with  the  same  thing  in  connection  with  pict- 
ures, horses,  and  the  like,  and  with  us  no 
one  accounts  a man  dishonest  because  he 
chooses  to  put  a “fancy”  price  upon  his 
corner  house  or  his  country  place,  and  then 
to  take  for  either  of  them  half  as  much  as  he 
asked  at  the  beginning. 

It  is  in  amusing  inconsistency  with  these 
Oriental  customs  of  buying  and  selling  that 


84  SHOPPIXG  m GRAND  CAIRO. 


one  sometimes  meets  with  an  ingenious 
method  by  which  the  trader  who  makes  his 
successive  abatements  saves  at  the  same  time 
his  pride.  A friend  who  was  in  search  of 
antique  coins,  scarabcei,  and  the  like,  found 
in  the  possession  of  a shrewd  Moslem  a col- 
lection from  which  about  half  a dozen  articles 
of  different  value  were  selected.  The  price 
demanded  for  them  was  twelve  pounds  ster- 
ling, and  the  sum  offered  was  exactly  half 
that  amount.  Then  ensued  a scene  in  which 
wrangling,  scuffling — everything,  in  fact,  short 
of  downright  blows — formed  a part.  We  were 
accompanied  by  a friend  of  the  dealer’s,  who 
acted  as  interpreter,  and  who  incontinently 
seized  the  desired  articles,  and  laying  down 
six  sovereigns  started  to  walk  off  with  them. 
At  once  the  dealer  closed  with  him,  and  the 
two  wrestled  for  their  possession  with  a 
vehemence  of  speech  and  gesture  which 
threatened  a more  violent  contention.  It 
was  all  purely  dramatic.  Suddenly  the  dealer 
ceased  his  struggles,  placed  a certain  number 
of  the  coins  and  scarabai  in  the  hand  of  our 
attendant,  and  said,  “ These  for  six  pounds ; ” 
and  then,  pausing  a moment,  added  with  a 
reproachful  air,  as  he  surrendered  the  rest, 
“These  a present.’’ 


SHOPPING  IN  GRAND  CAIRO.  85 

There  is  one  aspect  of  buying  and  selling 
in  Egypt  which  is  not  without  an  element  of 
pathos.  It  is  a country  in  which  everything 
is  for  sale.  The  rich  are  so  very  few,  and  the 
desperately  poor  are  so  many,  that  it  rarely 
happens  that  you  see  anything  that  cannot  be 
bought.  Passing  a hovel  you  see  a woman 
“ grinding  at  a mill,”  the  very  same  mill 
which  is  referred  to  in  the  New  Testament, 
consisting  of  two  stones,  of  which  the  upper 
turns  upon  that  beneath,  and  at  which  the 
woman  sits,  wearily  turning,  as  one  may  see 
represented  in  sculptures  six  thousand  years 
old.  Unconscious  of  observation  she  has 
dropped  her  veil,  and  her  face  is  exposed.  It 
is  a face  (I  am  describing  what  I happened 
to  see)  full  of  intelligence,  vivacity — I had 
almost  said  of  refinement ; and  yet  it  is  dis- 
figured by  a nose-ring  suspended  from  one 
nostril,  but  so  balanced  as  to  seem  to  hang 
from  both.  On  the  ring,  which  is  nearly  two 
inches  in  diameter  and  of  gold,  are  suspended 
one  or  two  little  gold  balls  and  a few  coins. 
It  is  probably  the  whole  sum  of  her  Avorldly 
wealth,  for  as  you  look  about  you  you  per- 
ceive that  her  surroundings  are  those  of  utter 
squalor  and  extremest  poverty.  Possibly  it 
was  her  dowry,  and  not  improbably  it  is  an 


86 


SHOPPJiXG  TJX  GRAXD  CAIRO. 


hereditary  treasure,  the  one  single  ornament 
which  her  mother  wore,  and  which  may  have 
been  passed  on  from  generation  to  generation 
with  increasing  reverence  and  care;  but  she 
will  sell  it — or  rather  she  must  sell  it;  for 
although  she  refuses  your  offer  at  first,  her 
necessities  constrain  her  to  accept  it  in  the 
end,  and  as  you  felicitate  yourself  upon  hav- 
ing secured  an  ornament  at  once  curious  and 
really  valuable,  you  will  be  very  insensible  if 
your  elation  is  not  a little  qualified  by  the 
reflection  that  you  may  have  stripped  another 
of  the  last  relic  of  personal  adornment,  as 
well  as  the  last  memento  of  ancestral  pros- 
perity. 


IX. 


Tuiingj^* 


The  Pleasures  and  the  Perils  of  the  Jour7iey — 
Nile  Boats  and  their  Crews — The  Value  of 
a Dragoman. 

In  Eliot  Warburton’s  “The  Crescent  and 
the  Cross,”  there  is  an  account  of  the  boat 
in  which  he  left  Alexandria  for  a voyage  up 
the  Nile,  and  of  the  preliminary  arrange- 
ments -which  at  that  time — nearly  forty  years 
ago — such  a voyage  required. 

Before  the  construction  of  the  railway  be- 
tween Alexandria  and  Cairo  it  was  customary 
to  begin  the  Nile  voyage  at  the  former  port, 
but  modern  impatience  has  gladly  seized 
upon  a pretext  for  abridging  one  of  the  most 
delightful  experiences  in  the  world,  and  at 
present,  the  traveller  who  proposes  to  pass 
a part  or  the  whole  of  his  Winter  upon  the 
Nile  almost  invariably  begins  his  journey  at 


88 


THE  EILE  VOYAGE. 


Cairo.  Within  a few  years  the  Khedive  has 
completed  a railway  to  Asyoot,  which  is 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  above 
Cairo,  on  the  way  to  the  first  cataract,  and  it 
is  surprising  that  some  enterprising  personage 
has  not  already  adopted  the  plan  of  making 
the  voyage  begin  from  this  point.  It  would 
have  at  least  the  advantage  of  eliminating 
from  the  daily  hearing  of  the  voyager  the 
shrieking  and  rumbling  of  the  railway,  which 
at  present  deprives,  by  its  constant  proximity, 
the  first  ten  days  of  his  journey  southward 
of  much  of  that  charm  which  consists  in  the 
sense  of  isolation  from  all  the  noise  and 
bustle  of  the  busy  world. 

Of  course,  however,  it  is  the  interest  of  the 
owners  of  the  dahabeehs  which  sail  up  the 
Nile  every  Winter  to  let  them  for  as  long  a 
period  as  possible,  and  therefore  Cairo  is  still 
the  main  port  from  which  such  craft  take 
their  departure,  though  a few  are  still  taken 
at  Alexandria.  It  is  customary  for  the  boats 
to  lie  at  Boulak,  which  is  simply  a suburb  of 
Cairo,  answering  the  purpose  of  a port. 
Thither  the  voyager  up  the  Nile  early  finds 
his  way — the  earlier  the  better ; for  there  are 
only  about  fifty  or  sixty  boats  at  all  fit  to  pass 
one’s  Winter  in.  and  the  best  of  these  are 


THE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


89 


often  engaged  months  or  even  a year  before- 
hand by  letter  from  England  or  the  United 
States. 

The  minutest  details  of  life  on  the  Nile 
have  been  so  often  described,  and  as  a part 
of  them  the  curious  specimen  of  naval  archi- 
tecture known  as  a dahabeeh.,  that  I shall  not 
venture  to  rehearse  what  is  doubtless  already 
abundantly  familiar  to  every  one  of  my 
readers;  but  recent  events  have  lent  a melan- 
choly and  tragic  interest  to  such  a voyage, 
and  it  may  not  be  superfluous  to  say  some- 
thing of  those  changes  in  the  construction  of 
the  dahabeeh  which,  it  is  to  be  feared,  have 
contributed  to  prepare  the  Avay  for  such 
events.  When  Warburton  ascended  the  Nile 
the  traveller’s  dahabeeh  Avas  a craft  about 
thirty-five  feet  long,  and,  Avith  a cabin,  at 
most  about  four  feet  high.  Since  then  the 
luxurious  demands  of  modern  travel  have 
gradually  lengthened  these  boats,  until  now 
they  are  built,  in  some  instances,  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  feet  long,  and  Avith 
cabins  eight  feet  in  the  clear.  This  Avould 
make  little  difference,  perhaps,  if  the  size  of 
the  huge  lateen-sail  did  not  go  on  increasing 
Avith  the  length  of  the  boat,  until  nOAV  the 
task  of  handling  and  controlling  such  a sail 


90 


THE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


may  easily  become  a very  serious  one.  In 
order  to  pull  any  craft  up  the  Nile  against 
its  tremendous  current  the  sail  must  be  a 
large  one,  and  when  almost  the  entire  force 
of  the  wind  presses  upon  this  sail  at  one 
single  point  it  is  quite  impossible  that  the 
rope,  or  “ sheet,”  which  stays  or  holds  the 
sail  at  this  point,  should  be  controlled  by  a 
single  sailor.  In  the  infallible  Murray,  and 
in  the  journals,  published  and  unpublished, 
of  many  travellers,  great  stress  is  laid  upon 
the  necessity  of  guarding  against  sudden 
flaws  of  wind,  which,  when  sailing  in  the 
neighborhood  of  mountains,  are  liable  to 
strike  the  sail  and  so  capsize  the  boat.  This 
danger  is  supposed  to  be  sufficiently  met  by 
inserting  in  the  contract  a provision  that, 
when  sailing,  one  of  the  crew  shall  always 
hold  the  rope  or  sheet  which  stays  the  main- 
sail in  his  own  hands,  so  as  to  be  able  to  let  it 
fly,  and  so  ease  the  sail  at  a moment’s  warn- 
ing; but,  as  a matter  of  fact,  this  is,  as  I have 
intimated,  quite  impossible.  The  sailor  has 
to  run  the  rope  through  a ring  and  knot  it  in 
order  to  control  it  at  all,  and  this  knot  has  to 
be  undone  and  the  rope  extricated  from  the 
ring  before  the  sail  can  be  released.  But  it 
is  easy  to  see  that  in  the  few  seconds  neces- 


TSE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


91 


sary  for  this  a boat  may  heel  over,  and  may 
utterly  fail  to  recover  herself. 

This  undoubtedly  was  the  explanation  of 
the  catastrophe  which  has  saddened  all 
voyagers  upon  the  Nile  this  Winter,  and 
which  cost  the  lives  of  three  young  girls, 
who  were  drowned  without  an  instant’s  warn- 
ing. The  sympathy  which  has  been  every- 
where felt  for  their  friends  will  be  especially 
keen  among  Americans,  in  behalf  of  that 
kindly  and  accomplished  English  gentleman, 
their  kinsman,  Mr.  Russell  Gurney,  whose 
temporary  residence  in  the  United  States  (as 
one  of  the  Commission  upon  the  Alabama 
Claims)  has  made  him  known  and  honored 
in  our  country  as  well  as  his  own. 

It  would  be  a pity  if  such  an  accident 
were  allowed  to  be  forgotten  without  at  least 
an  effort  to  direct  attention  to  the  warning 
which  it  utters.  I do  not  know  that  Ameri- 
cans need  that  warning  more  than  others, 
but  I have  ventured  to  give  it.  It  is  simply 
that  it  is  not  wise  to  travel  in  boats  which 
are  too  large  and  unwieldy,  and  which  are 
built  with  an  undue  reference  to  speed. 
With  us  it  is  comparatively  a small  matter 
whether  a cabin  be  five  feet  high  or  twice  as 
much,  provided  the  height  is  gained  by  sink- 


92 


THE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


ing  the  cabin  floor  below  the  water  line ; 
but  on  the  Nile,  one  of  the  first  conditions 
of  a good  boat  is  that  she  should  not  draw 
more  than  eighteen  inches  or  two  feet  of 
water.  If,  therefore,  the  saloon  and  cabins 
are  to  have  much  elegance  in  the  way  of 
height,  they  must  secure  it  at  the  cost  of 
pushing  the  whole  structure  so  high  into  the 
air  as  to  make  it,  in  a high  wind,  unwieldy 
and  top-heavy.  If  to  this  is  added  such 
narrowness  in  the  waist  as  has  lately  char- 
acterized many  of  the  iron  boats  built  in 
England  and  brought  to  the  Nile,  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  in  sailing  up  the  river  a boat  may 
be  in  considerable  danger  of  capsizing. 

From  all  this  it  follows  that  safety  and 
comfort  are  equally  secured  by  avoiding 
boats  which  are  too  long,  too  narrow,  and 
too  high  out  of  water.  Of  course,  if  the 
boats  are  made  of  sufficient  breadth  the 
dangers  or  discomforts  I have  indicated  may 
be  avoided ; but  the  larger  boats  (those,  I 
mean,  of  more  than  one  hundred  feet  in 
length,  with  proportionate  width)  are  so  un- 
wieldy as  to  make  it  difficult  to  get  them 
above  the  first  cataract;  and  in  coming  down 
the  river  their  bulk  is  a hindrance  to  their 
drifting,  so  that  the  traveller  who  has  allowed 


THE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


93 


himself  a pretty  liberal  margin  of  time  for 
his  voyage  finds  himself  sometimes  in  danger 
of  using  it  all  up  before  he  gets  half  way  back 
to  Cairo. 

There  is  a very  animated  competition 
among  the  boat-owners  at  Cairo,  between  the 
native  boats  and  those  of  foreign  build.  The 
joiners’  work  of  the  latter,  and  their  minor 
conveniences,  are  generally  superior,  and  they 
are  supposed  to  be  cleaner ; but  the  native 
boats  are  apt  to  be  faster,  and  some  of  them 
are  very  excellent.  The  thing  of  chief  im- 
portance is  to  secure  a boat  which  has  not 
been  used  for  freighting  purposes,  and  which 
stands,  therefore,  a reasonable  chance  of 
being  free  from  vermin. 

In  engaging  a dahabeeh  the  captain  (or 
reis),  mate,  steersman,  and  crew  go  with  the 
boat,  and  all  these  are  put,  by  the  terms  of 
the  usual  contract  in  such  cases,  under  the 
absolute  command  of  the  hirer — that  is  to 
say,  the  boat  is  to  sail  when  the  traveller 
orders  it  to  sail,  and  to  stop  only  when  he  has 
indicated  that  it  may  stop.  In  order  to  make 
his  authority  something  more  than  a mere 
semblance  of  power,  the  contract  provides 
that  the  hirer  may,  at  any  point  in  the  jour- 
ney, and  for  any  reason  that  may  seem  to 


94 


THE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


him  good,  discharge  the  entire  crew,  includ- 
ing the  reis,  and  employ  another.  Such  a 
provision  has  probably  been  made  necessary 
by  the  endeavors  of  the  captains  and  crews 
needlessly  to  delay  the  boat  upon  any  friv- 
olous pretext  for  the  sake  of  spinning  out  the 
term  of  their  own  engagements.  It  will  be 
readily  seen  that  this  contingency  might  be 
avoided  by  engaging  a boat  and  her  crew 
for  the  “ round  trip,”  with  an  agreement  to 
pay  a fixed  sum  for  the  same,  be  it  longer  or 
shorter  in  time ; but  it  has  been  found  in  prac- 
tice that  this  offers  a temptation  to  captains 
and  crews  to  “ rush  ” a boat  up  and  down  the 
river,  and  by  sailing  or  rowing  at  night  to 
deprive  the  traveller  of  devoting  so  much 
time  by  the  way  to  sight-seeing,  and  the  like, 
as  he  wishes.  The  arrangement  by  the  day 
or  month,  therefore,  is  generally  preferred, 
and  the  provision  giving  the  traveller  absolute 
command  of  the  reis  and  crew  is  usually  in- 
serted for  his  protection. 

It  is  questionable,  however,  whether  it  does 
not  confer  a greater  authority  than  many 
travellers  can  safely  use.  If  the  idea  is  once 
lodged  in  the  mind  of  the  hirer  that  the  reis 
and  crew  are  strongly  interested  in  prolong- 
ing his  journey,  every  suggestion  looking  to 


THE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


95 


delay  will  be  regarded  with  suspicion.  What, 
then,  is  the  traveller  to  do  7 it  may  be  asked. 
Is  he  to  give  himself  up  into  the  hands  of 
fifteen  or  twenty  Aral)  Nubian  sailors,  to 
be  dealt  with  according  to  their  cunning,  or 
indolence,  or  caprice  7 On  the  contrary,  I 
am  disposed  to  think  he  will  do  better  to  give 
himself  up  to  the  cunning  of  one  Oriental, 
and  be  guided  largely  by  his  counsel,  doubt- 
less not  unmixed  with  cunning  also. 

In  other  words,  I fancy  that  the  main 
secret  of  enjoying  a Winter  of  genuine  rest 
and  change  on  the  Nile  is  to  secure  a good 
dragoman,  and  to  leave  yourself  largely  in  his 
hands.  I am  not  unmindful  in  saying  this 
that  our  countryman  in  those  “Nile  Notes  of 
an  Howadji,”  which  are,  perhaps,  the  most 
charming  of  all  contributions  to  what  may  be 
called  the  literature  of  the  Nile,  has  written 
that  “ the  dragoman  is  of  four  species : the 
Maltese,  or  the  able  knave ; the  Greek,  or 
the  cunning  knave  ; the  Syrian,  or  the  active 
knave;  and  the  Egyptian,  or  the  stupid 
knave ; ” but,  after  all,  the  dragoman,  like 
most  other  people  who  have  to  earn  their 
living,  is  largely  dependent  in  doing  so  upon 
a fair  reputation  for  honesty  and  upright  deal- 
ing. Undoubtedly,  many  people  are  easily 


96 


THE  EILE  VOYAGE. 


deceived  on  the  Nile,  as  well  as  elsewhere ; 
but  even  in  Cairo  it  sooner  or  later  comes  to 
be  understood  that  there  are  some  men — 
Syrians,  Greeks,  Eg\'ptians,  and  even  ^Maltese 
— who  can  safely  be  trusted,  and  whose  in- 
terest it  is  to  deal  fairly  and  candidly  with 
the  traveller. 

And  so,  before  engaging  one’s  boat  it  is 
wise  to  engage  one’s  dragoman.  Any  one 
can  readily  ascertain  before  leaving  home  the 
names  of  those  in  good  repute,  or  if  not,  then 
our  own  or  the  English  consul  in  Cairo,  the 
leading  bankers  there,  and  the  manager  of 
the  principal  inn,  may  all  be  relied  upon  as 
candid  and  judicious  counsellors  in  such  an 
emergency. 

In  engaging  either  a dragoman  or  a 
dahabeeh  the  question  of  expense  is  one 
which  must  concern  many  persons  who  are 
in  search  of  health  or  rest.  It  is  undoubt- 
edly true  that  the  charges  are  needlessly  high, 
and  that  abundant  comfort  could  be  secured 
at  a much  less  expense  than  is  usual.  As  it 
is,  a party  of  six  can  secure  a fair  boat  for 
$1,375  for  a period  of  three  months,  and  a 
dragoman  for  $25  a day,  for  the  party.  This 
would  make  the  cost  of  a Winter  on  the  Nile 
$3,625  for  six  persons,  or  about  $625  apiece. 


THE  KILE  VOYAGE. 


97 


Of  course,  there  is  no  allowance  here  for 
money  given  away  as  backsheesh,  or  spent  in 
purchasing  Manchester-made  coins  supposed 
to  have  been  dug  up  at  Thebes  or  Abydos. 
But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  it  includes  board 
and  lodging,  light,  fuel,  and  washing,  togeth- 
er with  all  travelling  expenses  on  land  or 
water  for  the  whole  period.  And  even  this 
expense  might  be  considerably  lessened  if  the 
dragoman  could  understand  that  the  ordi- 
nary traveller  does  not  need  or  desire  to  be 
nourished  upon  such  a scale  of  wanton  ex- 
travagance as  prevails  upon  many  Nile  boats. 

Both  guide  books  and  travellers  are  profuse 
in  counsels  as  to  certain  necessaries  which 
must  be  brought  to  Egypt  from  a distance, 
and  equally  so  as  to  certain  minor  comforts 
which  the  Nile  boats  do  not  possess,  nor  the 
ordinary  dragoman  have  any  knowledge  of. 
But  I think,  nevertheless,  that  it  would  be 
entirely  safe  to  entrust  one’s  self  to  a competent 
dragoman,  and  to  confide  in  the  resources  of 
the  shops  of  Cairo.  It  would  be  very  curious 
if,  after  more  than  half  a century  of  foreign 
trav'el  up  and  down  the  Nile,  much  of  it 
being  the  travel  of  the  most  e.xacting  tourists 
in  the  world — I mean  the  English — both  the 
dragoman  and  the  Cairene  shopkeeper  had 


98 


THE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


not  learned  the  wants  and  tastes  of  the 
Frank.  Even  the  Khedive’s  postal  system  is 
now  an  excellent  one,  and  the  voyager  on  the 
Nile  may  find  a telegraph  line  all  the  way  to 
the  borders  of  Abyssinia,  if  he  has  the  curi- 
osity and  the  courage  to  go  there.  I mention 
these  things  because  it  is  not  uncommon  to 
encumber  one’s  self  with  many  articles  brought 
from  a distance,  all  of  which  can  be  found  on 
the  spot.  For  instance,  we  were  bidden  to 
secure  an  American  flag  in  Paris ; but  we 
found  a voluble  Frenchman  in  the  Mooskee 
who  was  abundantly  familiar  with  both  the 
form  and  colors  of  the  drapeau  Americain, 
and  though  he  showed  us  material  of  one 
quality,  and  charged  us  for  it,  while  making 
up  our  flags,  as  we  subsequently  discovered, 
of  another  and  inferior  quality,  there  is  no 
certainty  that  we  might  not  have  had  the 
same  experience  if  we  had  made  our  pur- 
chase in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix. 

The  modern  dahabceh  is  a spacious  and 
thoroughly-convenient  vessel,  with  a main 
saloon  about  fifteen  feet  by  twenty,  and  four 
state-rooms,  two  double  and  two  single.  In 
addition  to  these  is  a smaller  saloon  in  the 
stern,  which  may  be  used  as  a bedroom  or 
sitting  room.  At  first  view  one  is  struck  with 


THE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


99 


the  comparative  crudeness  and  primitiveness 
of  the  wood-work  and  decorations  ; but  a closer 
inspection  shows  the  boats  to  be,  on  the  whole, 
admirably  adapted  for  the  comfort  and  con- 
venience of  the  passengers. 

One  of  the  chief  curiosities  of  these  boats 
is  the  kitchen,  which  consists  of  a hole  about 
three  feet  square  in  the  forward  part  of  the 
deck,  with  a mud  fireplace  on  one  side  of  it. 
Here  the  cook  presides,  working  absolutely 
in  the  open  air,  and  with  only  a frail  wooden 
hood  or  shed  over  his  fire.  A more  hopeless- 
looking  contrivance  one  could  not  well  imag- 
ine ; and  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  any  but  the 
crudest  and  most  meagre  results  can  be  pro- 
duced with  so  scanty  and  primitive  conven- 
iences. And  yet  a friend  whose  establishment 
includes  a kitchen  thirty  feet  square,  with  a 
French  range  and  a French  artist  in  front  of 
it,  declared  unhesitatingly  that  no  such  results 
were  ever  produced  in  some  of  the  most 
famous  inns  in  Paris.  Some  such  assurance 
was  really  needed  on  a first  view  of  our 
dahabech  kitchen. 

A further  perplexity  which  naturally  oc- 
curred in  looking  over  our  little  craft  was  as 
to  the  accommodations  of  the  crew.  There 
was  abundance  of  space  for  the  four  or  five 


lOO 


TRE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


passengers,  but  where  were  the  fifteen  or 
twenty  men  (the  usual  number  is  nearer  the 
latter  than  the  former)  who  comprise  the 
working  staff  of  the  vessel  to  be  stowed  at 
night  ? The  problem  was  solved  after  a very 
short  and  easy  fashion,  when  we  were  in- 
formed that  each  man,  including  the  mk,  and 
excepting  one,  or  at  most  two,  of  the  servants, 
was  accustomed  to  lie  down  upon  the  deck 
just  where  he  had  been  working  or  watching, 
and,  rolling  himself  in  his  mat  or  shawl,  to 
sleep  soundly  in  the  open  air.  Then  we  re- 
membered, what  it  is  so  hard  to  remember  at 
first,  that  it  does  not  rain  in  Egypt,  and  that 
the  Winter  range  of  the  thermometer  is  rarely 
below  forty-five  degrees. 

One  of  the  most  unique  and  picturesque 
features  of  the  dahabeeh  is  its  deck,  espe- 
cially when  arranged  with  awnings,  rugs,  and 
divans.  The  soft,  warm  air  of  many  of  the 
Winter  days  in  Egypt  makes  it  possible  for 
the  voyager  to  pass  a large  part  of  the  time 
on  deck,  and  the  deck  and  its  belongings  are 
admirably  arranged  for  this  purpose.  One 
could  understand,  when  pacing  it  for  the  first 
time,  how  perfect  must  be  the  repose  of  days 
passed  in  sailing  thus  through  scenes  of  per- 
petual interest,  amid  a stillness  and  retirement 


TSE  NILE  VOYAGE. 


lOI 


upon  which  nothing  could  intrude.  Even 
the  unwonted  costumes  and  unfamiliar  forms 
and  customs  of  the  dusky  crew  whom  we 
found  in  possession  of  our  dahabeeh  when  we 
first  visited  it  formed  an  additional  charm ; 
and  full  of  interest  as  Cairo  has  been  to  us, 
we  find  ourselves  looking  forward  wdth  some- 
thing of  eager  impatience  for  the  day  on 
which  our  voyage  shall  begin.  We  are  told 
by  persons  versed  in  the  superstitions  of  the 
Arabs,  that  whatever  day  that  may  be,  it  must 
not  be  Wednesday,  which,  according  to  Mo- 
hammedan traditions,  is  an  unlucky  day ; and 
at  once  we  realize  that  our  voyage  is  to  be 
embarrassed  by  both  Christian  and  Moslem 
superstition — for  nobody  wants  to  set  out 
on  Friday;  and  one  who,  for  two  or  three 
months,  is  to  be  comparatively  at  the  mercy 
of  a score  of  impulsive  Arabs,  will  be  equally 
reluctant  to  disregard  the  fears  which  would 
forbid  their  starting  on  Wednesday.  Indeed, 
we  determined,  whether  disregarding  our  own 
superstitions  or  not,  to  be  careful  to  respect 
theirs — a determination  which  was  at  least 
prudent,  if  not  courageous. 


X. 


©optic  ©oslomo. 


An  American  at  a Double  Wedding  among 
the  Egyptian  Christians. 


It  is  not  often  that  one  gets  a chance  to 
attend  a Copt  wedding  Indeed,  I presume 
we  should  not  have  assisted  at  one  if  it  had 
not  been  for  a fortunate  accident.  But  here, 
as  before,  I was  indebted  to  the  untiring 
energy  of  an  English  friend,  who,  having 
been  constantly  occupied  since  sunrise,  pro- 
posed one  evening,  just  at  dusk,  that  we 
should  go  and  see  a Copt  church,  in  which 
there  was  a chance  of  finding  a sort  of  vesper 
service. 

It  will  imply,  I trust,  no  disrespect  to  any 
American  reader  if  I venture  to  recall  the 
fact  that  the  name  “ Copt  ” stands  for  the 
ancient  Christian  Church  of  Egypt,  and  that 
the  Coptic  Christians  of  to-day  assert  that 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


103 


they  are  the  lineal  descendants  of  the  people 
who  first  listened  to  the  preaching  of  the 
religion  of  the  New  Testament  from  the  lips 
of  St.  Mark  himself.  In  the  Coptic  cathedral 
in  Alexandria  is  shown  the  spot,  beneath  its 
altar,  where  the  body  of  St.  Mark  is  supposed 
to  rest.  History — at  any  rate,  western  tradi- 
tion, as  persons  who  have  been  in  Venice  will 
remember — tells  a different  story,  and  affirms 
that  the  body  of  the  Evangelist  was  trans- 
ported, centuries  ago,  to  the  crypt  of  the 
cathedral  of  St.  Mark,  in  Venice,  where,  in  a 
similar  position  beneath  its  altar,  they  are 
now  reposing.  I shall  not  attempt  to  recon- 
cile these  statements,  which  do  not  either  of 
them  affect  the  undoubted  fact  that  the  Coptic 
Christians  are  a body  of  people  inheriting 
certain  articles  of  Christian  belief  curiously 
mixed  up  with  both  Mohammedan  and  Jewish 
customs.  It  is  not  surprising  that  this  should 
be  so;  indeed,  it  was  rather  surprising,  on 
conversing  with  the  Copts  themselves,  to  find 
how  much  that  was  essential  to  the  Christian 
faith  they  had  succeeded  in  preserving. 
Overlaid  as  they  have  been  for  so  many  cen- 
turies by  the  dominant,  and  not  always  toler- 
ant, influences  of  the  Moslem  faith,  it  is 
wonderful  to  find  anything  left  beyond  the 


104 


COPTIC  CUST03IS. 


mere  husks  of  certain  traditional  rites.  I 
mention  this  because,  in  what  I may  have  to 
say,  my  readers  may  be  tempted  to  forget 
that  I am  describing  what  is  called  in  Egypt 
a Christian  ceremonial. 

On  arriving  at  the  court  of  the  Copt 
church,  which,  like  that  in  Alexandria,  has 
for  its  patron  saint  St.  Mark,  we  found  that 
its  doors  were  closed,  and  that  the  services 
for  the  day  were  over.  We  were  just  about 
sending  for  the  keys  in  order  to  view  the 
building,  when  a friend  of  our  dragoman  en- 
tered the  court  or  enclosure  within  which  the 
church  is  hidden  away  at  some  distance  from 
the  street,  and  informed  him  that  a Coptic 
wedding  was  about  to  take  place  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  suggested  that  possibly 
we  might  like  to  see  it.  We  demurred  a little 
at  this  proposed  intrusion  upon  the  private 
festivities  of  a family  with  whose  acquaintance 
we  were  not  honored,  but  being  assured  that 
they  would  be  gratified  by  the  attendance  of 
any  friends  of  their  friend,  we  allowed  our- 
selves to  be  led  away,  and  in  a few  moments 
found  ourselves  ascending  to  the  third  floor 
of  a spacious  house  in  which,  in  a rather 
small  room,  the  wedding  ceremonies  were  to 
take  place. 


COPTIC  custo:ms. 


i°S 

As  I have  said,  my  companion  was  a clergy- 
man of  the  Established  Church  of  England, 
and,  with  that  attachment  to  the  customs  of 
his  own  land  which  is  so  universal  a char- 
acteristic of  his  countrymen,  he  straightway 
began  to  inquire  how  it  was  that  so  impor- 
tant a service  as  a wedding  was  to  be  cele- 
brated in  a private  house.  “ Why  are  not 
your  people  married  in  church.?”  he  demanded 
of  his  Coptic  companion,  to  whom  we  were 
indebted  for  our  invitation. 

“ Frequently  they  are,”  was  the  answer. 

“ But  is  it  not  always  so  .?  ” 

“ No.” 

“ But  surely  it  is  better  to  be  married  in 
church.  Do  not  your  people  think  so .?  ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Why,  then,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is 
reverent,  are  they  not  always  married  in 
church  ? ” 

Whereupon  it  came  out  that  to  be  married 
in  church  was  a somewhat  expensive  process, 
as  it  involved  the  payment  of  several  consid- 
erable fees  for  the  opening  of  the  church,  the 
musical  part  of  the  services,  lights,  incense, 
etc.  On  hearing  this  my  clerical  companion 
expressed  his  extreme  surprise  and  dissatis- 
faction, and,  by  way  of  making  our  hospitable 


io6 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


Copt  Gompanion  feel  as  uncomfortable  as 
possible,  went  on  to  say  : “ In  the  Church  to 
which  this  gentleman  (pointing  to  me)  and  I 
belong,  all  the  services  of  the  Church  are  en- 
tirely free,  and  any  body  can  have  the  church 
opened  for  any  service  that  he  wishes  to  have 
performed,  without  its  costing  him  a single 
piaster.”  Unfortunately,  I was  unable  to 
confirm  this  statement,  so  far  as  the  eccle- 
siastical customs  of  my  own  countr}'  were 
concerned,  and  it  was  hard  to  say  which  was 
the  most  amusing,  the  expression  of  dismay 
with  which  my  companion  found  that  he  was 
alone  in  his  boast,  or  the  gleam  of  quiet  satisfac- 
tion which  flitted  across  the  face  of  the  Copt 
when  he  found  that  the  customs  of  his  own 
Church  were  no  worse  than  those  in  America. 

When  we  entered  the  room  in  which  the 
marriage  ceremonies  were  to  take  place,  we 
found  that  extensive  preparations  were  al- 
ready making,  and  that  there  was  to  be  a 
double  wedding;  two  young  men,  brothers, 
were  about  to  be  married  at  the  same  time. 
This  accounted  for  the  number  of  priests 
who  were  present,  and  to  these,  three  in  all, 
we  were  straightway  presented  with  much 
ceremony.  “Tell  them,  Hassan,”  said  my 
friend,  who,  I am  bound  to  add,  was  a mis- 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


107 

sionary  of  the  “ Church  Missionary  Society  ” 
of  the  English  Church  (which  name,  to  per- 
sons who  know  the  traditions  of  that  Society, 
will  be  a sufficient  guaranty  of  his  freedom 
from  what  are  called  “ extreme  ” views,  what- 
ever they  may  be),  “ tell  them  that  we  are 
both  priests  of  sister  Churches,  and  that  we 
are  very  glad  to  be  here  to-day.”  This  point 
being  reiterated  and  explained  by  our  inter- 
preter, we  were  placed,  with  considerable 
formality,  upon  the  divan  on  which  the  priests 
were  seated,  and  an  attendant  approached 
to  offer  us  refreshments.  These  consisted, 
first,  of  a sort  of  rose-water,  served  in  colored 
glasses  with  covers  richly  gilded.  There  was 
a slight  smell  of  oil  as  the  cup  was  raised  to 
one’s  lips,  but  the  beverage  itself  was  very 
pleasant  to  the  taste,  and  the  Avhole  thing, 
including  the  salver  on  Avhich  the  glasses 
AA’ere  borne,  the  costume  of  the  attendant 
who  bore  it,  and  the  salutations  with  which 
it  was  tendered,  consisting  of  the  triple 
gesture  toward  the  lips,  head,  and  heart, 
which  is  so  universal  in  the  East,  was  ex- 
tremely fascinating.  It  was  not  less  so 
when,  after  we  had  emptied  our  glasses,  they 
were  taken  from  us  by  a deacon  who  attended 
upon  the  clergy,  and  who,  upon  receiving 


io8 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


them,  took  the  extended  hand  with  which  we 
returned  them  in  both  his  own,  and  kissed  it 
gently  on  both  sides.  My  companion  ob- 
served in  a whisper,  with  dry  humor,  that, 
“ whatever  might  be  the  heresies  of  the  Coptic 
Church  (which  readers  of  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory will  readily  recall  in  connection  with 
what  is  known  as  the  Eutychian  schism),  its 
manners  were  very  taking.”  But  he  recalled 
the  remark  the  next  moment,  when  he  found 
that  having  been  refreshed  with  rose-water 
he  was  e.xpected  to  join  his  clerical  com- 
panions in  a cigarette.  This  he  declared  it 
impossible  to  do,  and  for  some  time  I found 
myself  regarded  with  favor  because  I evinced 
no  hostility  to  a little  very  mild  tobacco. 
After  tobacco  came  coffee,  and  during  all 
this  time  we  were  engaged  in  obtaining  such 
information  as  we  could  through  an  inter- 
preter, both  concerning  the  approaching  cere- 
mony and  concerning  the  ecclesiastical  cus- 
toms of  the  Copts  generally. 

My  companion,  anxious  that  the  Coptic 
clergv  present  should  thoroughly  appreciate 
the  office  of  their  guests,  favored  them  with  a 
short  lecture  on  ecclesiastical  history,  which 
ended,  however,  in  an  unlooked-for  manner. 
Said  he,  “Tell  them,  Hassan,  that  we  have 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


109 

Bishops,  too ; ” which  was  duly  communicated. 
Whereupon  the  three  priests  bowed  their 
heads  and  murmured  something  in  unison. 
“ What  do  they  say,  Hassan  ? ” impatiently 
demanded  my  companion.  “ They  say,”  said 
Hassan,  ‘“It  is  well;  God  be  praised!’” 
Whereupon  my  friend,  eager  to  deepen  the 
favorable  impression  which  he  concluded  he 
had  made,  went  on:  “Tell  them,  Hassan, 
that  my  companion  is  the  son  of  a Bishop.” 
This,  also,  was  duly  translated  into  Arabic  by 
our  facile  attendant ; whereupon,  much  to  my 
friend’s  surprise,  the  countenances  of  the 
three  priests  immediately  fell,  and  for  a few 
moments  wore  an  expression  in  which  grave 
disapprobation  was  evidently  struggling  with 
courtesy.  “ What  do  they  say  to  that,Hassan  ? ” 
again  demanded  my  friend,  with  increased 
impatience ; whereupon,  after  a long  and 
somewhat  animated  statement  from  the  senior 
of  the  priests,  accompanied  by  many  deprecat- 
ing gestures,  our  interpreter  hesitatingly  in- 
formed us  that  they  had  observed  that  they 
had  never  heard  of  such  a thing,  and  that  it 
was  not  well;  on  hearing  which  my  friend, 
tardily  remembering  his  ecclesiastical  history, 
whispered,  “Why,  of  course,  I ought  to  have 
recollected  that  their  Bishops,  like  those  of 


1 lO 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


the  Greek  Church,  are  chosen  from  the  mo- 
nastic orders — do  not  marry,  and,  of  course, 
have  no  sons,”  upon  which  I mildly  ventured 
to  suggest  that,  thereafter,  he  might  better  let 
well  enough  alone,  and  forbear  from  any  fur- 
ther efforts  to  impress  our  hosts  with  our 
ecclesiastical  importance. 

It  was  during  these  more  or  less  compli- 
mentary exchanges  that  a sort  of  small  altar 
had  been  arranged  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
on  which  stood,  as  its  most  conspicuous 
object,  a folio  copy  of  the  Gospels  in  Coptic, 
enclosed  in  a solid  silver  case,  richly  decorated 
and  rather  dirty.  This  was  lifted  from  its 
place  in  the  centre  of  the  table  and  brought 
to  us  for  our  inspection.  Here  my  companion 
saw  an  opportunity  of  rehabilitating  himself 
in  the  good  opinion  of  the  priests,  and,  taking 
the  volume,  or  casket,  he  first  reverently  kissed 
it,  and  then,  lifting  it  to  his  head  and  allowing 
it  to  rest  there  for  an  instant,  returned  it  to  the 
hands  of  the  deacon.  It  seems  that  this  was 
an  Oriental  way  of  testifying  respect  for  the  sa- 
cred volume,  and  I,  awkwardly,  but  promptly, 
imitated  it.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
opportune  as  a means  of  accomplishing  what 
my  friend  desired.  It  was  evident  that  the 
priests  were  greatly  impressed,  and  a few  mo- 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


Ill 


ments  afterward  the  deacon  communicated  to 
our  interpreter  a request  from  the  clergy  that 
we  would  assist  them  in  the  service — an 
invitation,  which,  somewhat  to  my  dismay,  my 
companion  promptly  accepted. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a noise  in  the 
street  without,  and  we  were  informed  that  it 
was  intended  to  announce  the  approach  of 
the  two  bridegrooms.  We  went  to  the  win- 
dows, and  leaning  out  saw  a sight  not  easily 
forgotten.  The  narrow  street  was  crowded 
with  men,  women,  and  boys,  and  winding  up 
the  court  which  led  to  the  house  from  which 
we  looked  down  upon  it  was  a procession, 
composed  of  a band  of  music  preceded  by 
cawasses  (or  policemen)  and  followed  by  the 
bridegrooms  and  their  friends.  The  band 
was  playing  with  the  utmost  vigor,  and  as  it 
was  composed  of  several  reeds  which  gave 
only  two  or  three  notes  of  an  intensely  shrill 
quality,  and  some  drums  which  produced  a 
rattling,  rasping  sound,  the  effect  was  simply 
deafening.  Add  to  this  the  glare  of  the 
torches,  the  eager  movement  of  gayly-dressed 
figures,  and  the  shouts  and  cries  of  the  surg- 
ing crowd  of  lookers-on,  and  the  whole  pro- 
duced a confusion  of  light  and  sound  that 
almost  made  one  dizzy.  At  this  moment,  I 


II2 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


lifted  my  eyes  for  an  instant  to  the  dark  face 
of  a building  almost  directly  opposite  me,  and 
hanging  from  the  windows  of  its  various  sto- 
ries, like  bees,  were  groups  of  Mohammedan 
women,  whose  scorn  or  hatred  of  the  faith  of 
the  Copt  could  not  make  them  indifferent  to 
that  most  interesting  of  events,  a wedding.  In 
their  excitement  or  curiosity  many  of  them  had 
dropped  their  veils,  and  I was  a good  deal  sur- 
prised at  the  intelligence  and  vivacity  of  their 
expressions.  As  a matter  of  fact,  the  Moham- 
medan women  are  vastly  more  ignorant  than 
the  men,  and  are  rarely  allowed  to  acquire  any 
knowledge  of  even  the  simplest  rudiments  of 
learning.  These  women,  indeed,  were  little 
more  than  children,  and  it  was,  after  all,  with 
more  of  the  glee  of  children  than  anything 
higher  that  their  faces  were  for  the  moment 
illumined.  Even  that  gleam  of  enjoyment, 
however,  it  was  pleasant  to  see,  and  I felt 
equally  vexed  with  their  master  (or  husband, 
as  I presume  he  was)  and  with  myself  when  I 
saw  that  my  chance  scrutiny  had  been  obsen  ed 
by  him,  and  had  led  to  his  angrily  driving  them 
into  the  darkness  of  the  rear  apartment.  In  a 
few  moments  they  were  back,  however,  and, 
with  their  veils  carefully  arranged,  watched 
the  remainder  of  the  scene  in  the  street. 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


”3 


This  ended  as  soon  as  the  two  bridegrooms 
had  fairly  crossed  the  threshold.  The  band 
departed  for  the  brides,  and  the  two  brothers 
were  a moment  afterward  ushered  into  the 
apartment  to  await  their  coming.  The  young 
gentlemen  were  arrayed  in  partly  European 
and  partly  Oriental  costume,  the  mixed  effect 
of  which  was  neither  dignified  nor  becoming. 
They  were  very  affable,  however,  and  kissed 
our  hands  in  the  most  devout  and  filial 
fashion.  Soon  after  their  entrance  the  pre- 
centor or  choir-leader  appeared,  and  with 
him  the  youthful  deacons  and  choir-boys  who 
were  to  perform  the  musical  part  of  the  ser- 
vice. One  of  these  young  gentlemen,  dis- 
covering our  presence,  immediately  attached 
himself  to  me  as  a sort  of  interpreter  of  the 
significance  of  the  several  details  of  the 
service,  keeping  up  an  animated  conversa- 
tion in  broken  but  very  graphic  English.  I 
found  he  had  been  taught  English  in  the 
Coptic  school,  and  that  he  had,  apparently, 
but  one  ambition,  and  that  was  to  improve  his 
idioms  and  his  pronunciation.  A brighter  boy 
I never  met  in  my  life,  and  if  he  follows  out  his 
intention,  as  communicated  to  me  that  evening, 
and  studies  medicine,  I predict  that  the  Copts 
in  Cairo  will  have  at  least  one  very  good  doctor. 

3 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


II4 

The  deacons  and  choir-boys  had  brought 
their  vestments  with  them,  and  robed  with  an 
amount  of  giggling,  pushing,  and  whispering 
which  indicated  that  they  were  very  much 
like  their  professional  brothers  all  over  the 
world.  Their  vestments  consisted  of  a sort 
of  surplice  (which  might  easily  have  been 
cleaner),  over  which  they  wore  a stole  or 
scarf,  carried  over  the  shoulders  and  around 
the  waist,  and  made  of  striped  silk,  the  pre- 
dominant colors  being  yellow  and  green. 
The  priests’  vestments  were  more  ornate,  but 
were  tawdry  and  rusty  looking,  at  the  same 
time.  In  form,  they  resembled  those  worn 
by  the  clergy  of  the  Roman  Church.  When 
the  clergy  and  assistants  were  habited,  the 
subdeacon  lighted  some  candles  which  were 
arranged  in  a curious  candlestick,  having 
some  remote  resemblance  to  a Greek  cross, 
which  stood  upon  the  table  behind  the  silver 
case  containing  the  Gospels.  As  their  light 
fell  on  the  imprisoned  volume  standing  below 
and  in  front  of  them,  I noticed,  for  the  first 
time,  that  the  silver  case  was  so  riveted 
together  that  there  was,  apparently,  no  way 
of  obtaining  access  to  that  which  it  enclosed  ; 
and  on  approaching  nearer  and  examining 
more,  closely,  I found  there  was  nothing  to 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


ITS 

show  that  the  casket  had  been  opened  for  a 
generation.  One  could  not  help  wondering 
whether  this  curious  fashion  of  making  a 
fetish  of  an  unopened  book  had  not  a good 
deal  to  do  with  the  condition  of  the  Coptic 
Church.  But  it  is  the  most  hopeful  of  signs 
when  a Church  or  a nation  begins  to  recog- 
nize its  own  defects,  and  I could  not  but  be 
moved  when  my  little  Coptic  companion,  sit- 
ting cross-legged  at  my  feet  while  we  were 
waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  brides,  and  an- 
swering some  questions  about  his  faith  and 
his  people,  said,  as  an  apology  for  some  con- 
fession which  he  was  evidently  reluctant  to 
make,  “ But  you  know,  sir,  we  are  an  inert 
Church.”  May  his  bright  and  inquisitive 
mind  be  a prophecy  of  the  sacred  curiosity 
erelong  to  awaken  among  his  people — a 
curiosity  which  shall  prompt  them  to  read 
the  volume  which  now  so  many  of  them  only 
“ ignorantly  worship !” 

Once  more  our  conversation  was  inter- 
rupted by  shouts  and  cries  from  the  street, 
and  as  we  turned  to  the  windows  we  saw 
from  the  torches  flaming,  as  well  as  from  the 
crowd  that  attended  them,  that  the  brides 
were  approaching.  As  we  leaned  out  and 
watched  them  threading  their  way  among  the 


ii6 


COPTIC  CUSTOMS. 


curious  and  motley  assemblage  which  sur- 
rounded them,  we  observed  that  each  of 
them  was  attended — protected  would  be  a 
better  word — by  a stalwart  companion  of  the 
sterner  sex,  who  led  them  along  by  the 
shoulders  very  much  as  one  would  guide  a 
blind  child.  Indeed,  it  was  evident  from 
their  stature  that  they  were  little  more  than 
children,  and  on  inquiry  I found  that  neither 
of  them  was  over  thirteen  years  of  age.  They 
had  not  been  seen  by  the  young  men  who 
were  to  be  their  husbands,  and  they  were 
veiled  or  draped  in  such  a way  as  to  make  it 
utterly  impossible  to  infer  anything  whatever 
as  to  their  appearance.  We  were  wondering, 
as  they  approached  the  door  below  us,  how 
they  had  survived  the  walk  from  their  own 
homes  to  the  scene  of  the  wedding,  swathed 
as  they  were  by  huge  shawls,  which  covered 
their  heads  and  faces,  and  were  tightly  wrap- 
ped around  their  shoulders.  My  companion 
ventured  to  suggest  how  easily  one  might  be 
married  to  the  wrong  bride  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, especially  when,  as  in  this  case, 
they  were  dressed,  so  far  as  could  be  seen, 
precisely  alike.  But  in  the  midst  of  the  dis- 
cussion which  this  suggestion  raised,  we  were 
interrupted  suddenly  by  a prolonged  and 


A COPTIC  WEDDING. 


piercing  scream,  as  if  a locomotive  under  a 
full  head  of  steam  was  charging  up  the  stair- 
way, and  with  this  premonitory  signal  the 
brides  entered  the  room. 


XL 


A Marriage  Ceremony  Curiously  Performed., 
and  a Wedding  Dinner  Curiously  Eaten. 


My  last  chapter  left  two  brides  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  apartment  in  which,  a few  minutes 
later,  a double  wedding  was  to  be  celebrated. 
But  before  the  ceremony  began,  my  vivacious 
companion,  on  the  strength  of  his  superior 
acquaintance  with  the  customs  of  the  East, 
undertook  to  give  me  an  explanation  of  the 
piercing  and  unearthly  yell  with  which  the 
two  brides  had  been  received.  From  whom 
this  had  proceeded  we  had  no  means  of  see- 
ing. The  sound  seemed  to  come  from  the 


Il8  A COPTIC  WEDDIXG. 

Stairway,  and  was  prolonged  for  a moment 
or  two  after  the  brides  entered  the  room  in 
which  we  were  awaiting  them.  Its  extreme 
shrillness  made  it  probable  that  we  had  heard 
the  voices  of  women,  and  this,  he  assured 
me,  was  the  case ; adding  that  this  was  the 
lamentation  of  the  attendant  virgins  in  view 
of  the  dismal  fate  of  their  companions. 
“ Strange,”  he  added,  “ that  in  a country  and 
among  a people  taught  to  regard  it  as  an 
unmixed  disgrace  not  to  be  married,  there 
should  be  this  custom  of  howling  and  shriek- 
ing in  order  to  express  the  grief  occasioned 
by  a step  which  every  young  woman  is  edu- 
cated from  her  birth  religiously  to  aspire  to 
take.”  Unfortunately,  this  remark  was  rob- 
bed of  its  point  by  an  interpreter,  who  in- 
formed us  that  the  screams  which  we  heard, 
so  far  from  being  an  attempt  to  give  expres- 
sion to  any  sorrowful  emotion,  were  cries  of 
joy  with  which  it  was  customary  to  hail  a 
bride’s  arrival.  One  could  not  but  agree  with 
my  companion,  who  insisted  that  if  this  was 
so,  young  women  in  Egypt  had  a very  im- 
perfect conception  of  a joyful  sound. 

When  *the  brides  entered  the  room  they 
were  guided  to  their  places  precisely  as  we 
had  seen  them  when  watching  them  on  their 


A COPTIC  WEDDING. 


II9 

way  through  the  street  below.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  sign  of  recognition  between 
them  and  their  respective  bridegrooms,  and 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  there  were  no 
more  signs  of  life  in  either  of  them  than  if 
they  had  been  two  mummies.  Indeed,  H. 
suggested  that  as  they  made  no  responses  and 
never  once  showed  their  faces,  there  was  no 
reason  why  the  ceremony  should  not  be  gone 
through  with  in  company  with  a sort  of  lay- 
figure,  or  with  some  one  trained,  like  a pro- 
fessional diver,  to  do  without  breathing  for  a 
long  time — a function  which  their  swathed 
and  muffled  condition  must  have  made  it  ex- 
tremely difficult  for  mere  novices  to  perform. 

These  speculations,  however,  were  inter- 
rupted by  the  services,  Avhich,  after  a few 
moments,  began.  We  had  almost  forgotten 
our  invitation  to  assist  in  them,  when  we  were 
recalled  by  the  approach  of  two  of  the  eccle- 
siastics, one  bearing  a censer  and  the  other  a 
metal  box  (I  am  ashamed  to  betray,  by  my 
use  of  these  bald  phrases,  my  ignorance  of 
the  proper  terminology  in  these  matters),  from 
which  we  were  in  turn  requested  to  take  a 
pinch  of  incense  and  sprinkle  it  upon  the 
burning  coals  already  smoking  in  the  censer. 
I hope  I did  not  render  myself  liable  to  be 


120 


A COPTIC  \YEDDIXG. 


proceeded  against  canonically  by  my  compli- 
ance with  this  request,  which  was  made  with 
such  bland  and  Oriental  persuasiveness  that 
it  was  quite  impossible  to  resist  it.  It  was 
immediately  followed  by  a ceremonious  “ cen- 
sing ” of  the  other  priests,  ourselves,  the  brides 
and  bridegrooms,  the  deacons,  choir-boys, 
etc.,  and  then  a fat  and  sleepy-looking  old 
gentleman,  the  senior  of  the  clergy  present, 
went  on  in  due  course  with  the  service. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  rehearse  it  here, 
Avere  I competent  to  do  so,  which,  as  it  was 
performed  exclusively  in  either  Coptic  or 
Arabic,  I confess  I am  not.  What  was  cliiefly 
noticeable  about  it,  however,  Avas  the  profound 
indifference  Avith  AA'hich  everybody,  including 
the  persons  about  to  be  married  and  the  clergy 
themselves,  appeared  to  regard  it.  I have 
seen  services  that  Avere  painfully  mechanical, 
but  here  the  effect  Avas  somehoAv  quite  different. 
When  people  are  using  Avords  of  Avhich  they 
know  perfectly  Avell  the  meaning,  but  are 
using  them  Avith  listlessness  or  indecorous 
rapidity  and  parrot-like  monotony  of  repeti- 
tion, there  is  something  that  shocks  one  very 
deeply.  But  here  the  impression  Avas  Avholly 
of  another  sort.  I shall  never  forget  that 
stout  old  priest,  Avith  his  vestments  so  huddled 


A COPTIC  ^YEDPI^^G. 


I2I 


upon  him  that  he  looked  like  an  old  woman 
crooning  a ditty,  of  whose  significance  she 
had  long  since  lost  all  intelligible  apprehen- 
sion, and  who  accepted  a correction  from  his 
choir-leader  as  meekly  as  if  he  had  been  a 
school-boy.  Indeed,  it  was  one  of  the  curiosi- 
ties of  the  occasion  that  the  priests  were  all 
of  them  so  unfamiliar,  apparently,  with  the 
service  that  they  spelled  through  their  various 
parts  as  if  they  had  been  beginners  in  the  art 
of  reading.  Every  now  and  then  one  of  them 
would  make  a blunder,  when  the  precentor 
would  call  out  in  a sharp,  irritated  tone,  “ La ! 
la ! ” (no ! no !)  and  give  him  the  correct 
reading  in  a sort  of  grumbling  under-key  that 
was  inexpressibly  amusing;  whereupon  the 
old  priest  would  look  up  over  his  spectacles  in 
a meek  and  rather  wounded  fashion,  as  though 
mildly  resenting  this  humiliating  correction 
before  strangers,  and  then  once  more  address 
himself  to  his  task,  with  painstaking  delibera- 
tion, following  the  lines  with  his  finger,  and 
reading  at  a pace  which  threatened  to  prolong 
the  services  through  the  night.  It  only  needed 
the  abrupt  rests  to  which  each  ecclesiastic 
treated  himself  in  turn, to  render  the  whole  scene 
irresistibly  comic.  When  our  elderly  and 
portly  friend  had  finished  his  part  he  promptly 


122 


A COPTIC  WEDDING. 


dropped,  Turkish  fashion,  to  the  ground,  and 
sat  cross-legged  on  the  floor,  while  some  one 
else  took  up  the  service.  On  one  such  occa- 
sion he  came  into  sudden  and  une.xpected 
collision  with  a slender  and  feeble-looking 
clerical  brother  who  had  taken  up  the  service, 
and  who  was  reading  it  with  his  back  to  him. 
For  a moment  the  brother  reeled  and  rocked 
like  a tower  tottering  to  its  fall,  but  at  length 
succeeded  in  recovering  his  centre  of  gravity, 
though  it  was  a good  while  before  we  recovered 
ours. 

All  this  time  the  service  was  proceeding 
with  as  little  reference  to  the  candidates  for 
matrimony  as  though  they  had  not  been  pres- 
ent. There  seemed  something  studied  in  the 
accuracy  with  which  each  officiating  priest 
carefully  turned  his  back  upon  them,  and  it 
was  not  until  near  the  end  of  the  service  that 
either  of  the  couples  had  any  ecclesiastical 
notice  whatever.  I could  not  help  thinking 
this  a mistake,  if  the  priests  had  any  regard 
for  their  own  feelings,  for  the  two  bridegrooms 
at  least  respected  the  obligations  of  decorum 
so  far  as  to  preserve  a reverent  silence,  and 
looked  occasionally  as  if  they  were  somewhat 
interested  in  the  service.  Not  so  the  other 
persons  present,  who  whispered  and  chatted 


A COPTIC  WEDDING. 


123 


to  each  other,  in  somewhat  subdued  tones,  it  is 
true,  but  otherwise  without  the  slightest  re- 
serve. One  of  the  priests  evidently  felt  it  his 
duty  to  make  the  occasion  as  cheerful  as  pos- 
sible, and,  therefore,  while  one  of  his  brethren 
was  occupied  in  reading  some  part  of  the  ser- 
vice, he  would  be  imparting  some  pleasant  jest 
to  his  companion,  and  the  low  ripple  of  laugh- 
ter would  come  in  in  the  midst  of  the  droning 
of  the  “ officiant”  like  some  light  running  ac- 
companiment to  a heavy  bass  solo.  Of  course 
a great  deal  of  this,  so  surprising,  and  in  some 
aspects  of  it  so  painful,  to  us,  was  to  be  ex- 
plained by  the  fact  that  the  service  was  con- 
ducted in  the  Coptic  tongue,  which  a great 
many  of  the  Copts  themselves  very  imperfect- 
ly understand.  Indeed,  if  these  Coptic  Chris- 
tians ever  reflected  about  the  fact  at  all,  it 
must  have  been  a humiliating  thought  to  them 
that,  whenever  they  would  make  any  part  of 
their  services  intelligible  to  the  mass  of  per- 
sons who  attend  them,  they  are  obliged  (as 
they  were  on  this  occasion)  to  use  an  inter- 
preter, who  translates  the  passages  of  the  Gos- 
pels and  Epistles  read  in  the  services  into  Ara- 
bic. On  this  occasion  the  interpreter  was  a 
youth  with  one  eye,  who  ran  this  eye  along 
the  page  in  a curious  fashion,  and  upon  whom 


124 


A COPTIC  y\rEDBISG. 


the  old  priest,  to  whom  I have  referred  as  oc- 
casionally blundering  in  his  Coptic,  revenged 
himself  by  snubbing  him  audibly  for  his  blun- 
ders in  Arabic. 

These  things  would  not  have  been  at  once 
intelligible  to  us  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  con- 
stant assistance  of  our  little  friend,  the  English- 
speaking  lad  in  the  choir.  This  youthful  Copt 
could  not  be  induced  to  regard  anything  as  of 
so  much  importance  as  the  business  of  making 
things  plain  to  us,  and  he  kept  up  his  running 
commentary  in  tones  which  he  took  very  little 
trouble  to  make  inaudible  to  the  whole  room. 
Leaning  down  once  (for  he  sat  cross-legged  on 
the  floor  through  most  of  the  service)  to  hint 
to  him  the  propriety  of  a more  subdued  key,  I 
reached  out  my  hand  incautiously  behind  me 
to  preserve  my  balance,  and  in  doing  so  knock- 
ed my  hat  out  of  the  window.  It  was  of  the 
most  rigidly  orthodox  English  pattern,  and  I 
knew  it  would  be  of  no  earthly  use  to  any  native 
of  Cairo,  unless  (as  Sir  Arthur  Helps  has  some- 
where suggested  a savage  easily  might)  he 
should  mistake  it  for  a cooking  utensil,  and 
convert  it  to  some  such  use ; but  it  was  the 
only  hat  I had,  and  I was  naturally  anxious  to 
recover  it.  I ventured,  therefore,  to  whisper 
my  dilemma  to  my  young  companion,  in  the 


A COPTIC  WEDDING. 


125 


hope  that  he  could  commission  some  one  in 
the  room  to  go  downstairs  and  search  for  it ; 
but  what  was  my  dismay  to  see  him  drop  his 
service-book  on  the  floor,  doff  his  vestments 
with  most  astonishing  celerity,  and  vanish  out 
of  the  door  in  search  of  it  himself!  It  spoke 
well  for  the  honesty  of  the  somewhat  promis- 
cuous crowd  below  that  in  a few  moments  he 
returned  with  it  safe  and  sound. 

As  the  service  drew  to  its  close  it  was 
varied  for  the  first  time  by  some  words  ad- 
dressed to  the  two  couples,  and  by  certain 
ceremonies  symbolical  of  the  union  then 
about  to  be  consummated.  One  of  these 
was  extremely  pretty  and  suggestive.  An 
embroidered  scarf  of  some  rich  texture  was 
handed  to  the  officiating  clergyman,  and  this 
he  bound  round  the  head  of  the  bridegroom, 
and  then,  passing  it  directly  from  the  crown 
of  his  head,  repeated  the  process  of  winding 
it  about  the  head  of  the  bride.  The  effect 
was  not  ungraceful,  and  the  idea  which  the 
whole  was  evidently  intended  to  convey,  of 
the  two  lives  thenceforth  united  in  one 
thought  and  interest,  was  very  beautifully 
expressed.  After  this  came  the  ceremony 
of  tckrecl,  or  crowning,  which  consisted  in 
the  placing  by  the  priest  of  a kind  of  crown 


126 


A COPTIC  WEDDIXG. 


or  frontal  diadem  of  gold  on  the  head  of  ' 

each  person,  which  was  worn  until  the  con- 
clusion of  the  ceremony.  The  priest  also 
received  and  blessed  two  rings  in  each  case,  I 

for  the  bridegroom  and  bride,  and  then,  after  ' 

what  appeared  to  be  an  exhortation  addressed  | 

to  the  couples,  the  services  were  brought  to  a j 

close.  We  were  not  allowed,  however,  to  J 

congratulate  the  brides,  and  the  bridegrooms  A 

seemed  a little  puzzled  by  our  western  forms  I 

of  speech  in  offering  our  salutations.  Mean-  I 

time  the  brides  had  been  led  away  by  their  * 

attendants,  and  in  a few  moments  the  two 
bridegrooms  descended  to  attend  to  the  en- 
tertainment of  their  guests. 

By  this  time  the  evening  was  well  ad- 
vanced, and  we  were  about  to  hasten  away 
in  search  of  something  to  take  the  place  of 
our  lost  dinner.  Our  interpreter,  however,  ' 

insisted  that  we  should  remain  and  dine  with 
the  friends  of  the  bridegroom  ; and  after  some 
consultation  we  decided  to  accept  his  invita- 
tion. It  needed  all  our  acquaintance  with 
Oriental  traditions  of  hospitality,  however, 
to  enable  us  to  overcome  the  instinctive 
reluctance  to  intrude  upon  persons  on  whom 
we  had  not  the  slightest  claim,  and  whose 
company  we  had  sought  purely  from  motives 


1 


A COPTIC  WEDDIXG. 


127 


of  curiosity.  But  we  were  assured  that  our 
host  would  feel  wounded  if  we  retired  with- 
out tasting  of  his  viands,  and  our  guide  and 
counsellor,  Hassan,  assured  us  that  we  should 
find  them  abundantly  worth  tasting. 

As  usual,  Hassan  was  right.  We  descended 
from  the  upper  rooms  and  found  ourselves  in 
a large  and  unpaved  court,  around  three  sides 
of  which  ran  a broad  divan,  on  which  guests 
were  reclining  in  all  sorts  of  costumes  and 
postures.  We  were  seated  among  these,  and 
enjoyed  for  a few  moments  a very  wholesome 
and  humbling  sense  of  the  hideousness  of 
our  garments  when  compared  with  the  rich 
and  happily-blended  colors  of  the  costumes 
which  surrounded  us,  and  the  easy  and 
indolent  grace  of  the  persons  who  wore  them. 
But  these  sleepy-looking  and  smiling  Cairene 
gentlemen  successfully  concealed  any  scorn 
they  may  have  felt  for  our  mean  apparel  and 
gauche  bearing,  and  made  room  for  us  beside 
them  with  hearty  cordiality.  As  for  a time 
our  dragoman,  interpreter,  and  the  choir-boys 
all  alike  disappeared,  we  were  left  in  a some- 
what perplexing  position,  for  conversation 
was  impossible,  and  the  perpetual  salaaming 
with  which  the  guests  about  us  supplied  the 
place  of  it  grew  somewhat  stale  with  repeti- 


128 


A COPTIC  WEDDING. 


tion.  AVe  were  regaled  once  more  with 
coffee,  and  also  with  sherbet,  and  then  our 
interpreter  entered  and  announced  that  din- 
ner was  served. 

As  it  was  served  in  a room  about  twelve 
feet  square  instead  of  a large  dining-hall,  it 
appeared  that  the  guests  were  to  be  “ dined  ” 
in  instalments,  and  these,  if  our  own  expe- 
rience was  a criterion,  did  not  exceed  in 
number  ten  persons.  Seven  sat  down,  with 
an  interpreter  and  ourselves,  to  a table  con- 
sisting of  a shallow  circular  metal  tray  about 
four  feet  in  diameter,  in  the  centre  of  which 
stood  a single  covered  dish,  and  around  the 
circumference  of  which  were  distributed  ten 
large  oval-shaped  pieces  of  bread.  Two 
spoons,  laid  beside  each  of  these,  completed 
the  equipment  of  the  table.  We  seated  our- 
selves with  a good  deal  of  salaaming  and 
ceremony,  and  then  each  man  seized  a spoon 
and  waited  for  the  feast  to  begin.  In  an 
instant  the  lid  of  the  mysterious  dish  was 
whipped  off,  and  in  another  instant  nine  ivory 
spoons  were  fishing  in  the  soup  which  was 
disclosed,  and  transferring  both  liquid  and 
solid  nourishment  to  hungry  mouths  with 
somewhat  startling  rapidity.  I say  nine 
spoons,  and  not  ten,  for  at  first  I found  my- 


A COPTIC  WEDDING. 


129 


self  altogether  unequal  to  the  emergency ; but, 
“ Help  yourself,  sir,  else  you  get  nothing  at 
all,”  cried  the  interpreter,  and  obviously  this 
was  precisely  “the  situation.”  So  in  went 
one  more  spoon  among  the  rest,  and  with  the 
first  plunge  vanished  every  vestige  of  reserve. 
In  a few  moments  I found  myself  rending  a 
roast  turkey  with  my  fingers,  and  fishing  out 
tidbits  with  a fine  scorn  of  knives,  forks,  and 
spoons.  It  required  a little  more  effort,  when 
a very  affable,  but  not  very  tidy-looking, 
gentleman  on  my  left  insisted  on  transferring 
little  splinters  of  meat  from  the  dish  to  my 
plate  (or  piece  of  bread)  with  his  fingers,  to 
eat  them  with  much  relish ; but  even  this 
reluctance  vanished  in  time,  and  before  the 
repast  was  over  I became  a good  deal  shaken 
in  my  conviction  that  a four-pronged  fork  is 
the  most  distinctive  mark  of  an  advanced 
civilization. 

I shall  not  linger  upon  our  courses.  They 
meandered  through  labyrinths  of  culinary 
mystery,  which  wisdom  counselled  us  not  to 
penetrate  too  deeply.  There  was  a dish  that 
tasted  like  terrapin,  but  then  it  might  so  eas- 
ily have  been  rats  that  we  promptly  recalled 
the  apostolic  rule,  and  ate,  asking  no  ques- 
tions. As  I have  said,  Hassan  was  right.  So 
9 


13° 


A COPTIC  WEPDING. 


good  a dinner  one  does  not  often  eat,  and  if 
Egypt  has  lost  some  nobler  arts,  she  has  wise- 
ly preserved  the  art  of  cooking.  Is  it  this  that 
explains  what  one  may  see  in  so  much  Egyp- 
tian statuary,  and  equally  in  so  many  living 
Egyptian  faces } Was  it  because  they  were 
so  wisely  and  wholesomely  nourished  that  the 
disinterred  images  of  those  heroes  of  the  time 
of  Rameses  II.  look  down  so  blandly  and  be- 
nignly upon  the  dyspeptic  traveller  of  to-day } 
One  thing  we  were  assured  of,  as  we  exchang- 
ed these  queries  on  our  way  home,  and  that 
was,  as  our  interpreter  impressed  upon  us, 
that  the  two  brides  whom  we  had  seen  mar- 
ried, whatever  else  they  might  be  ignorant  of, 
were  pretty  sure  to  be  thorough  mistresses  of 
culinary  art.  “ They  might  have  brought 
more  costly  dowries  tO'  their  husbands,”  mur- 
mured my  friend,  in  the  somewhat  acrimoni- 
ous tone  of  a man  who  has  suffered  from  sour 
bread,  “ but  surely  none  more  likely  to  illumine 
the  domestic  hearthstone  with  perpetual  sun- 
shine.” Such  earthy  creatures  are  men  ! 


XII. 


American  and  English  Efforts  to  Teach  Mo- 
hammedan Children — Curious  Difficulties  in 
the  Way — Miss  JVhately's  School. 


It  would  be  a very  pitiful  thing  if  one  went 
to  the  East  merely  to  be  diverted  by  it,  and 
still  more  pitiful  if  the  traveller  could  look 
upon  that  imperfect  and  sadly-obscured  light 
which  shines  through  the  rites  of  the  Coptic 
or  the  Mohammedan  faith,  without  a hearty 
sympathy  for  any  endeavor  to  make  that  light 
clearer  and  fuller.  One  cannot  forget,  of 
course,  that  it  has  been  somewhat  the  fashion 
to  smile  upon  all  such  endeavors  with  a bland 
and  compassionate  contempt.  Many  persons 
maintain  that  Christianity  never  has  made, 
and  never  can  make,  the  slightest  impression 
upon  Mohammedanism  ; and  many  others  be- 
lieve with  equal  sincerity  that  Coptic  Chris- 


132 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT. 


tianity  is  of  so  poor  and  low  a type  that  any  at- 
tempt to  improve  it  is  simply  wasting  strength 
in  the  vain  endeavor  to  galvanize  a corpse. 
Certainly  one  has  no  right  to  quarrel  with  per- 
sons whose  faith  in  the  quickening,  ennobling, 
and  conquering  power  of  the  religion  of  the 
New  Testament  is  of  so  very  mild  and  tepid  a 
quality.  But  it  is  at  least  a matter  for  unfeign- 
ed rejoicing,  that  there  are  a few  men  and  wo- 
men whose  opinions  are  very  different,  and 
who  have  proved  their  faith  by  noble  and  self- 
denying  work  in  Egypt,  extending  over  a pe- 
riod of  more  than  twenty  years. 

It  is  matter  of  honest  pride,  too,  that  some 
of  these  are  our  own  country-people,  who 
have,  at  Alexandria,  at  Cairo,  and  at  Siout,  in 
middle  Egypt,  maintained  schools  and  mis- 
sions with  considerable  success.  Dr.  Lansing, 
the  head  of  the  American  mission  in  Cairo,  and 
his  coadjutor.  Dr.  Watson,  together  with  the 
warm-hearted  and  hard-working  men  and  wo- 
men who  are  associated  with  them,  are  mem- 
bers, 1 believe,  of  a communion  which  in- 
herits its  ecclesiastical  traditions  largely  from 
the  rigid  formularies  of  Scotch  Presbyterian- 
ism ; and  any  testimony  as  to  their  work  from 
a prelatist  might  possibly  awaken  in  them  a 
shiver  of  self-reproach  at  the  too  easy  com- 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT. 


133 


plaisance  which  had  earned  it.  In  truth,  I am 
not  competent  to  speak  of  their  ecclesiastical 
labors,  for  I know  little  or  nothing  of  them. 
What  I did  see  in  Cairo  was  their  school,  in 
which  were  gathered  a large  number  of  pupils 
of  both  sexes,  and  of  both  the  Mohammedan 
and  Coptic  faiths.  These  pupils  were  receiv- 
ing a higher  order  of  education  than  they 
could  hope  to  obtain  elsewhere,  and  were  gain- 
ing, by  means  of  it,  a mental  inquisitiveness 
which  must,  sooner  or  later,  prove  fatal  to  a 
great  deal  of  Oriental  superstition,  whether  it 
disguise  itself  under  Coptic  or  Mohammedan 
forms.  As  I have  intimated  in  a former  chap- 
ter, the  Egyptian  government  has  not  been  al- 
together backward  in  encouraging  its  people 
to  read  and  write ; but  what  is  wanted  is 
something  more  than  this  merely  elementary 
teaching — instruction  in  history,  in  the  exact 
sciences,  and,  above  all,  in  a habit  of  diligent 
thinking.  It  will  only  be  when  this  has  been 
in  some  measure  achieved  that  the  evils  of 
persistent  and  stupid  traditions  will  be  over- 
come, and  that  men  will  come  to  understand 
that  the  only  Evil  Eye  is  one  that  sees  things 
falsely.  When  people  believe  that  the  refuse 
of  a black  dog  is  a sovereign  remedy  for  one 
disease,  and  the  refuse  of  a white  cow  for  an- 


134 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT. 


Other,  there  is  nothing  we  can  do  for  them  but 
to  awaken  in  them  that  which  thinks  and  rea- 
sons, and  so  set  them  to  find  out  for  them- 
selves the  hollowness  of  their  delusions. 

Undoubtedly  this  is  a slow  process,  and  one 
which  will  often  receive  its  severest  checks 
from  the  obstinacy  of  the  people  among  whom 
it  is  attempted  ; but  it  is  no  less  certain  that 
our  American  schools  in  Egypt  have  been 
making  steady  and  healthful  advancement, 
and  that  already  they  can  point  to  large  num- 
bers of  men  and  women  whose  lives  have  been 
made  purer  and  happier,  and  whose  aspira- 
tions have  been  dignified  and  elevated  by  the 
teaching  which  they  have  received.  It  was 
my  fortune  to  be  in  Cairo  when  the  new  door- 
step (or  corner-stone)  of  the  new  American 
school-building  was  laid,  and  to  witness  a 
scene  which  has,  I presume,  already  been  de- 
scribed by  other  persons  who  were  present. 
To  one  of  them,  at  any  rate,  the  most  interest- 
ing feature  of  that  unique  and  picturesque 
spectacle  was  not  the  assemblage  of  distin- 
guished Americans — though  it  included  judges, 
diplomatists,  and  men  of  letters — not  the  ar- 
ray, at  once  brilliant  and  gratifying,  of  the 
representatives  of  foreign  governments  and  in- 
terests, nor  yet  the  imposing  deputation  of 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT.  135 

Bishops  and  clergy  from  the  Greek  Church, 
who  “ assisted  ” on  the  occasion  with  such  be- 
nign and  affable  dignity,  but  the  dusky  fringe 
of  eager  faces,  crowned  with  turban  or  tar- 
boosh, that  hung  upon  the  edge  of  the  little 
group  of  Franks,  at  once  outnumbering  them 
beyond  all  count,  and  eclipsing  their  more  lan- 
guid interest  by  a hungry  earnestness  of  atten- 
tion which  could  not  be  wearied.  One’s  scep- 
ticism needed  to  be  of  the  most  obstinate  text- 
ure in  order  to  persuade  him  that  in  such  a 
scene  there  was  no  evidence  of  the  awakening 
of  dormant  minds,  and  of  loftier  and  more 
truthful  perceptions. 

I have  said  little  of  the  American  schools 
in  detail,  because  my  opportunities  for  seeing 
them  were  slight,  and  because  (unless  I mis- 
take) an  extended  account  of  them  has  re- 
cently appeared  in  our  own  newspapers,  in 
connection  with  a description  of  the  cere- 
mony to  which  I have  already  referred. 
Another  school  in  Cairo  is  doing  a work 
which  is  of  peculiar  interest,  and  this  I was 
enabled  to  visit  repeatedly.  I refer  to  the 
school  under  the  charge  of  the  daughter  of 
the  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  Miss  Whately, 
which  has  had  a career  of  signal  success. 
One  ever  so  indifferent  to  the  matter  of  the 


136 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT. 


education  of  Egj'ptian  children  would  have 
felt  some  curiosity  to  see  the  daughter  of  a 
man  M'hose  name  is  so  well  known  in  our 
own  land,  and  whose  works  have  a place  in 
the  memory,  if  not  in  the  gratitude,  of  every 
school-boy  of  this  generation.  I remember, 
as  though  it  were  yesterday,  assisting,  when  a 
lad  of  a dozen  years  of  age,  in  the  unpacking 
of  a case  of  books  sent  from  Ireland  to 
Pennsylvania  by  Archbishop  Whatel}',  as  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  contributions  made 
by  citizens  of  Philadelphia  for  the  relief  of 
the  famine  of  1848  (I  am  not  quite  sure  as  to 
the  year)  in  Ireland.  Along  with  them  the 
Archbishop  sent  to  a brother  ecclesiastic  a 
full-length  engraving  of  himself,  and,  scliool- 
boy  as  I was,  plodding  at  the  time  through 
the  pages  of  his  Grace’s  “ Logic  ” and 
“ Rhetoric,”  I can  recall  the  curious  interest 
with  which  I studied  his  portrait.  It  was 
with  something  of  the  sense  of  greeting  a 
familiar  face  that  I met,  for  the  first  time, 
under  her  own  roof  in  Cairo,  the  daughter 
who  bears  his  name,  and  it  was,  too,  with  the 
feeling  that  there  must  have  been  some  slum- 
bering strain  of  enthusiastic  self-sacrifice  in 
that  somewhat  dry  and  unsentimental  nature 
of  his,  which,  coming  to  the  surface  in  the 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT.  137 

kindlier  soil  of  a woman’s  heart,  had  prompted 
his  child  to  go  forth  to  the  work  in  the  midst 
of  which  I found  her.  One  cannot  doubt 
that  it  is  owing  not  a little  to  that  sound 
judgment  and  sturdy  wisdom  which  she  has 
inherited  from  her  distinguished  father  that 
the  success  of  Miss  'Udiately  is  owing.  That 
it  is  success  no  one  who  visits  her  school 
can  doubt. 

When  I saw  them  there  were  nearly  two 
hundred  young  persons  assembled  in  the 
various  class  rooms,  and  their  whole  bearing, 
as  well  as  their  prompt  and  intelligent  an- 
swers to  the  questions  which  were  put  to 
them,  showed  a mental  alertness  which  was 
positively  refreshing.  The  school  is  graded 
according  to  the  ages  and  attainments  of  the 
pupils,  and  it  was  not  the  least  interesting 
and  curious  among  the  scenes  in  the  various 
class  rooms  to  have  pointed  out  to  us  young 
girls  whose  hands  had  been  repeatedly  sought 
in  marriage,  but  who  had  declined  such  over- 
tures rather  than  surrender  the  privileges  of 
the  school.  One  of  these  young  women, 
who  had  reached  the  advanced  age  of  fifteen, 
had  been  asked  in  marriage  no  less  than  five 
times,  and  five  times  had  declined.  Let  it 
be  remembered  that  an  Egyptian  girl  has 


EDVCATIOX  IX  EGYPT. 


138 

arrived  at  a marriageable  age  when  she  is 
twelve  or  thirteen  years  old,  and  that  this 
young  girl  was  not  only  departing  from  the 
customs  of  her  people,  but  declining  what 
every  tradition  of  her  race  conspired  to  teach 
her  was  the  crowning  dignity  of  her  sex.  I 
confess  I found  myself  wondering  whether 
one  could  hope  to  find  a similar  thirst  for 
learning  among  more  favored  peoples. 

Indeed,  it  is  in  this  courage  in  resisting 
temptations  to  surrender  opportunities  for 
learning,  and  in  overcoming  obstacles  to  the 
improvement  of  those  opportunities,  that  one 
finds  a most  hopeful  sign  for  the  future  of 
the  Egyptian  people.  Those  obstacles  begin 
with  their  birth,  and  multiply  with  every 
added  year.  In  the  case  of  an  Egyptian 
child,  one  of  the  fundamental  conditions  of 
its  well-being,  in  the  mind  of  its  j^arent,  is 
that  it  should  be  dirty  and  ill-clad.  I have 
already  described  how  neglected  and  poorly 
clothed  will  often  appear  the  child  of  parents 
of  comparative  wealth.  This  is  permitted 
out  of  deference  to  the  widely-prevalent  and 
most  potent  superstition  of  the  Evil  Eye.  If 
you  have  a good  horse,  take  care  not  to  clean 
him  or  to  caparison  him  gayly,  or  you  will 
provoke  the  misfortune  of  the  Evil  Eye. 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT. 


139 


Let  his  coat  be  rough  and  his  trappings 
mean,  and  then  he  will  pass  unnoticed,  or,  at 
least,  provoke  no  man’s  envious  or  covetous 
glance  ; for  the  envious  or  covetous  glance  is 
the  Evil  Eye,  and  it  is  an  illustration  of  the 
odd  moral  inversions  of  these  Arabic  super- 
stitions that  the  punishment  provoked  by  the 
Evil  Eye  falls,  not  on  the  envious  or  covetous 
person  who  has  indulged  in  these  sinful 
glances,  but  upon  the  innocent  victim  on 
whom  they  fall.  If  your  horse  is  stolen  or 
runs  away,  then  it  is  because  some  one  has 
cast  upon  him  an  Evil  Eye.  If  your  child 
droops  and  sickens,  it  is  because  his  beauty, 
or  his  apparel,  or  both,  have  provoked  the 
glances  of  the  Evil  Eye.  Plainly,  therefore, 
the  way  to  avoid  these  calamities  is  to  con- 
ceal the  treasures  which  you  possess.  If 
your  child  has  beauty  of  feature,  take  care 
that  he  shall  be  so  begrimed  with  dirt  that 
no  one  can  tell  him  from  a mud  wall.  If  he 
have  grace  of  person  or  bearing,  clothe  him 
in  rags,  and  starve  him  by  neglect,  so  that 
no  one  may  notice  him  save  to  avoid  him. 
An  excellent  system,  on  the  Egyptian  theory 
of  life,  but  quite  fatal  to  his  chances  of  get- 
ting a good  education  in  a Christian  school ; 
for  whatever  an  Egyptian  parent  may  venture 


140 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT. 


to  do  in  the  case  of  his  or  her  own  children, 
the  least  that  any  Christian  man  or  woman 
can  demand,  when  gathering  a hundred  or 
two  of  such  children  into  one  school,  is  that 
they  shall  have  clean  skins,  and,  at  any  rate, 
one  decent  garment.  Not  to  insist  upon  this 
would  be  to  make  the  school  a hot-house  for 
the  rapid  development  of  bad  habits  and  of 
contagious  disease.  But  here  there  straight- 
way arises  collision  between  the  parent  and 
teacher.  “ What ! ” demands  the  former, 
“ shall  I make  my  child  a target  for  the 
malign  influences  of  every  Evil  Eye  that  may 
chance  to  fall  upon  him  ? Make  him  clean 
and  dress  him  neatly,  do  you  say } But  what 
is  this  if  not  a short  method  of  dooming  him 
to  speedy  misfortune  1 ” And  when  one 
attempts  to  reason  with  such  an  objection, 
he  very  speedily  finds  how  much  harder  it  is 
to  conquer  a superstition  than  to  persuade 
intelligence. 

But  these  are  merely  the  difficulties  that  lie 
at  the  threshold.  When  an  Egyptian  child 
has  been  coaxed  into  school,  every  tradition  of 
his  race,  and  every  motive  of  parental  selfish- 
ness, conspire  to  get  him  out  of  it  as  soon  as 
possible.  If  the  child  be  a boy,  the  merest  ru- 
diments of  learning,  in  a country  where  edu- 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT.  I41 

cation  is  not  the  heritage  of  the  many,  but  the 
distinction  of  the  few,  give  him  a commercial 
value  which  the  indolence  of  his  natural  guar- 
dians is  not  slow  to  turn  into  money.  It  is 
easy  to  see  that,  under  these  circumstances,  it 
becomes  every  month — almost  every  week — 
increasingly  difficult  to  retain  a hold  upon 
children  who  have  been  laboriously  gathered. 
The  teacher  may  have  gone,  as  Miss  Whately 
was  accustomed  to  go,  from  door  to  door, 
soliciting  the  privilege  of  teaching  Arab  chil- 
dren for  nothing.  She  may  have  wrestled  in 
argument,  as  Miss  Whately  amusingly  pictures 
herself  doing,  with  old  women  who  did  not 
feel  interested  enough  in  their  visitor  to  open 
their  doors  to  her,  but  who  could  hurl  from  a 
second-story  window  a string  of  shrill  and  ac- 
rimonious reasons  why  children  should  not  be 
taught  anything;  such  a one  may  have  slowly 
triumphed  over  the  prejudices,  the  obstinacy, 
the  ignorance  of  stupid  and  wrong-headed 
teachers,  and  may  have  succeeded  at  length  in 
winning  children  to  her  side.  It  is  then  that 
her  sorest  discouragements  begin  ; for  no  soon- 
er has  she  awakened  some  dormant  spark  of 
interest,  and  laid  the  baldest  foundation  of 
some  worthy  superstructure  of  education,  than 
a thousand  motives  conspire  to  prohibit  her 


142 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT. 


further  advances.  If  the  child  is  a girl,  any 
education  is  regarded  as,  at  the  best,  but  a 
doubtful  boon,  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  un- 
der institutions  which  lend  their  sanction  to 
polygamy,  there  is  a certain  force  in  such  a 
view.  To  educate  women  is,  undoubtedly,  to 
incur  the  risk  of  making  them  dissatisfied  with 
a condition  which  ignorance  alone  can  render 
endurable ; for  while  learning  may  improve 
the  sex  as  companions,  it  is  apt  to  impair  their 
value  as  toys — and  it  is  as  toys  that  Moham- 
medanism rates  them — and  it  equally  resents 
an  interference  which  teaches  them  to  read 
and  to  think,  and  an  education  which  encour- 
ages them  to  believe  that  they  have  souls. 

If,  in  spite  of  such  difficulties  and  others 
like  them,  a single  woman  has  built  up  a 
school  which  is  educating  both  boys  and  girls 
in  sound  learning  and  in  Christian  ideas,  her 
work  is  surely  worthy  of  all  honor.  That  that 
work  has  been  done  without  parade,  and  in 
the  cheerful  and  resolute  fashion  which  is  so 
distinctive  of  English  work  and  of  the  Eng- 
lish character,  is  not  its  least  charm.  Two 
things  which  I saw  in  Miss  Whately’s  school 
will  live  in  my  memory  as  freshly  and  vividly 
as  anything  which  I have  seen  in  all  the  East. 
One  of  them  was  revealed  to  me  when,  throw- 


EDUCATION  IN  EGYPT. 


143 


ing  open  a door,  Miss  Whately  said  simply, 
“ This  is  our  sewing-school.”  In  a lofty  room 
were  assembled  a number  of  young  girls  and 
young  children,  engaged  in  groups  of  twos  and 
threes,  in  embroidery  upon  tambour-frames. 
Every  variety  of  work,  in  every  variety  of 
texture,  was  here  going  on,  including  the  em- 
broidery of  silk  and  velvet  in  colors,  and  of 
other  light  and  airy-looking  materials,  which  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  designate  more  precisely, 
in  gold  and  silver  thread.  When  I remem- 
bered that  it  is  a rare  thing  to  find  an  Orient- 
al woman  who  understands  even  the  simplest 
rudiments  of  sewing,  it  was  a matter  of  genu- 
ine rejoicing  that  such  a resource  for  employ- 
ing idle  hours  and  beautifying  homes  was 
placed  within  the  reach  of  those  girls,  who 
would  otherwise  have  sat  with  folded  hands, 
or  used  them  only  in  the  coarsest  drudgery. 
Somebody  has  said  that  what  smoking  is  to 
men,  needlework  in  its  various  forms  is  to  wo- 
men— a soothing  employment,  that  quiets 
restless  nerves  and  furnishes  an  outlet  for 
aimless  activities.  At  any  rate,  such  home 
arts  cannot  be  taught  to  these  Mohammedan 
girls  without  introducing  among  them  habits 
of  self-helpfulness,  and  awakening  equally  an 
impulse  to  make  home  brighter,  gayer,  and 


144 


EDUCATIOX  IN  EGYPT. 


more  home-like,  whose  good  effects  cannot 
easily  be  calculated. 

The  other  scene  was  in  a larger  room, 
where  at  least  a hundred  younger  children 
were  gathered,  and  where  two  of  their  number, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  led  the 
rest  in  repeating  the  Lord’s  Prayer.  Any- 
thing so  profoundly  pathetic  by  virtue  of  its 
very  naturalness  and  simplicity,  it  is  not  easy 
to  conceive.  Two  little  girls,  of  modest  and 
devout  mien,  advanced  from  their  companions, 
and  standing  with  heads  reverently  bent,  and 
one  hand  covering  the  else  possibly  wandering 
eyes,  repeated  in  Arabic  in  low,  clear  tones, 
the  simple  words,  “ Our  Father,  who  art  in 
Heaven,  hallowed  be  Thy  name.”  In  the 
same  hushed  voice  the  whole  school  repeated 
the  words  after  them.  I do  not  know  what  it 
was — the  tones  of  their  voices,  the  earnestness 
of  their  faces,  the  unaffected  reverence  of  their 
whole  bearing — but  before  they  had  done,  the 
tears  stood  in  my  eyes,  and  that  incomparable 
prayer  had  got  somehow  a new  meaning  and 
a deeper  appropriateness.  “ Thy  kingdom 
come.”  Who  could  doubt  that  in  God’s  own 
time  and  way  it  would  verily  come  to  these, 
as  to  so  many  others  still  walking  in  darkness  or 
in  paths  clouded  by  superstition  } And  seeing 


THE  NILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS.  145 

the  love  for  her  that  shone  in  those  childlike 
faces,  who  could  help  at  once  honoring  and 
envying  the  noble  woman  who,  turning  her 
back  upon  the  refinements,  the  dignities,  and 
the  companionships  of  home,  was  doing,  in 
that  far-off  land,  so  noble  and  Christ-like  a 
work  ? 


XIII. 


Htiit  11^^ 

The  Conditions  of  a Pieasant  Niie  Voyage — 
First  Views  of  Pyramids  and  Ruins. 


There  are  legends  of  Winters  passed  upon 
the  Nile  which  record  as  little  of  peace  and 
repose  as  we  are  wont  to  attribute  to  the 
Kilkenny  cats.  I remember  one  of  them 
which  told  how  two  young  couples,  setting 
out  in  company  for  a three-months’  voyage, 
quarrelled  hopelessly  at  their  first  dinner, 
and  never  sat  down  to  the  sanie  table  for  the 
remainder  of  the  seventy  days.  A cynic 

ZO 


146  THE  NILE  AND  TEE  PYK AMIES. 

whom  I met  in  Cairo  advised  me  to  take  a 
railway  time-table  with  me,  so  that  I might 
be  able  to  abandon  boat  life  and  return  to 
civilization  so  soon  as  the  monotony  of 
limited  companionship  became  intolerable. 
Neither  legend  nor  counsel  was  altogether 
inopportune.  Congenial  society  is,  undoubt- 
edly, desirable  where  one  is  shut  up  to  con- 
stant intercourse  with  half  a dozen  people 
for  a whole  Winter,  and  the  gift — for  it  is 
scarcely  a thing  to  be  acquired — of  being  a 
good  traveller  is  as  desirable  on  the  Nile  as 
anywhere  else. 

Thus  conditioned,  however,  Nile  life  can 
scarcely  be  too  much  praised  even  by  its 
most  enthusiastic  votaries.  Friends  in  whose 
judgment  I had  been  wont  to  confide  pitied 
me  beforehand  in  view  of  its  inevitable  dul- 
ness,  or  mildly  rebuked  me  for  desiring  to 
enjoy  its  equally  inevitable  indolence.  It  is 
difficult  to  understand  how  there  is  any  room 
for  or  risk  of  either.  It  is  undoubtedly  true, 
as  a most  observant  traveller  has  written, 
that  “ no  one  can  see  anything  in  Egypt 
except  what  he  takes  with  him  the  power  of 
seeing ; ” but  the  lowest  order  of  intellect 
takes  with  it  some  power  of  seeing,  and  one 
is  not  twenty  miles  from  Cairo  before  the  eye 


THE  NILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS.  1 47 

has  been  challenged  with  sights  at  once  so 
strange  and  so  stimulating  that  one’s  thoughts 
by  day  and  one’s  dreams  by  night  become 
saturated  with  the  warm  coloring  of  Egyptian 
sunshine  and  Egyptian  antiquities.  One 
of  the  first  excursions  Avhich  is  made  on 
shore,  if  one  takes  the  excursions  on  the  way 
up  the  river  (which,  however,  is  not,  perhaps, 
the  best  plan),  is  to  Sakkara,  by  way  of 
Memphis.  This  is  made  not  so  much  to 
view  the  meagre  remains  of  what  was,  when 
Herodotus  saw  it,  the  largest  and  most 
magnificent  city  in  Egypt,  but  to  see  the 
Pyramids  which  are  just  beyond  it,  and 
which  probably  include  the  oldest  in  the 
world. 

Let  us  suppose  now  that  you  never  saw  a 
pyramid.  You  may  have  reserved  those  at 
Gheezeh  for  the  last,  and  if,  in  your  reading, 
you  have  ever  stumbled  upon  any  specula- 
tions as  to  the  original  design  and  motive 
of  the  Pyramids,  you  may  possibly  have 
turned  from  it  as  an  extremely  mouldy  and 
uninteresting  topic;  but  as  your  donkey, 
making  his  last  turn,  clears  the  shadowing 
palms,  and  brings  you  out  upon  the  desert, 
you  are  confronted  with  something  concern- 
ing which,  as  it  rises  there  before  your  eyes, 


148  TBE  NILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS. 


it  is  just  as  impossible  not  to  be  curious  as 
it  is  not  to  breathe.  That  huge  and  tower- 
ing mass  of  stone,  whose  very  simplicity  of 
outline  and  utter  absence  of  ornament  lends 
to  it  a majestic  grandeur  and  dignity  which 
are  all  its  own — who  reared  it  there What 
does  it  mean  How  was  it  builded  } What 
did  it  hide  1 And  whether  or  not  you  have 
an  answer  ready  for  these  questions,  this  at 
least  you  know,  that  those  mighty  monuments 
have  not  been  reared  in  vain.  If  they  were 
meant  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  a great 
people,  verily  they  have  done  it.  The  race 
which  could  plan  such  structures  and  then 
rear  them — the  kings  who  could  make  their 
tombs  so  stable  that  already  they  have  out- 
lasted fifty  centuries,  and  look  down  to-day 
upon  the  ruins  of  mightiest  empires  mingling 
their  dust  at  their  feet — such  kings,  wicked, 
cruel,  remorseless  though  they  may  have 
been,  were  men  and  not  children,  rulers  and 
not  puppets.  And  yet  all  this  is  not  the 
mere  superlative  of  a heated  imagination ; it 
is  the  simple  truth.  If  we  can  be  certified  of 
any  fact  on  earth,  then  we  may  be  sure  of  this 
— that  it  is  more  than  five  thousand  years 
since  the  supervising  architect  of  the  Great 
Pyramid  of  Gheezeh  walked  into  the  throne- 


THE  NILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS.  1 49 

room  of  Cheops  and  said,  “ Sire,  your  tomb 
is  finished.”  You  remember  that  the  Pyra- 
mids of  Sakkara  are  even  older  than  this, 
and  while  you  are  trying  to  grasp  this  fact, 
your  guide  beckons  you  down  into  one  of 
the  splendid  tombs  which  lie  at  the  foot  of 
these  Pyramids,  and  you  find  yourself  sur- 
rounded by-  a wealth  of  color  and  a profusion 
of  adornment  which  scores  of  centuries  have 
not  been  able  to  dim  or  efface.  “ Who  were 
the  people  that  did  these  things ” you  ask 
yourself,  and  at  once  piqued  and  stimulated 
by  your  own  ignorance  of  them,  you  ride 
slowly  back  to  your  dahabeeh  again,  busy  with 
a hundred  questions  to  which  a month  before 
you  never  conceived  it  possible  you  could 
take  the  trouble  to  seek  for  an  answer. 

Thus  you  find  the  use  of  a certain  part  of 
your  equipment,  which  you  have  hitherto  been 
tempted  to  designate  as  superfluous  luggage. 
You  were  told  to  bring  Wilkinson’s  “ Ancient 
Egyptians,”  and  Lane’s  “ Modern  Egyptians,” 
and  Piozzi  Smyth  on  the  Pyramids,  and  Sir 
John  Mandeville’s  Travels,  and  a number 
of  other  heavy-looking  volumes,  which  you 
bought  as  a tribute  to  decorum,  and  encum- 
bered yourself  with  as  furniture  which  was 
to  perform  a purely  ornamental  function  ; but 


150  THE  NILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS. 

suddenly  you  find  that  the  mustiest  of  these 
volumes  has  become  interesting  if  it  can  tell 
you  anything  about  that  elder  Egypt,  and 
that  even  the  Bible  has  an  altogether  profane 
attraction  as  a record  of  the  doings  of  the 
Pharaohs ; for  the  Pharaohs,  you  find,  in- 
cluded Cheops  and  Horus  and  Sethos,  who 
was  that  particular  Pharaoh  who  once  so 
affably  patronized  Joseph,  and  who  found  his 
account  in  the  shrewd  Israelite’s  character- 
istic utilization  of  a “ short  ” wheat  market. 
“ What  kind  of  men,”  you  find  yourself  ask- 
ing, “ were  these  who  reared  such  monu- 
ments and  builded  themselves  such  mighty 
tombs  } ” And  though  you  may  call,  and 
rightly  enough,  building  monuments  to  one’s 
self,  and  piling  stones  upon  each  other  for 
months  and  years  together,  simply  to  make  a 
burial-place  for  one’s  carcass,  a very  narrow 
and  selfish  idea  of  immortality,  yet  the 
almost  sublime  grandeur  of  these  tombs  will 
not  let  you  look  upon  them  unmoved. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  one’s  ignorance  and 
one’s  curiosity  conspire  to  drive  him  to  study 
books,  stones,  hieroglyphics,  anything  that 
will  tell  him  about  this  wonderful  Egyptian 
past ; for  it  is  quite  impossible  to  learn  any- 
thing of  them  in  any  second-hand  way.  In 


THE  NILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS. 

younger  countries,  and  amid  later  antiquities, 
as  in  England  and  on  the  Continent,  you  will 
find  that  dreary  being  who,  whether  he  calls 
himself  a sexton  or  a cicerone,  a valef  de 
place  or  a guide,  is  the  one  human  being 
who,  of  all  others,  makes  travel  the  most 
utter  weariness,  and  the  study  of  the  past  the 
most  dismal  mockery.  Who  shall  tell  what 
moments  of  rapt  delight  in  some  grand  old 
cathedral,  as  at  Ely  or  Cologne,  have  been 
spoiled,  nay,  made  a scourge  to  one’s 
patience,  and  a blister  to  his  temper,  by  the 
whining,  droning,  mercenary  creature  who 
insists  upon  “ showing  ” you  the  building  ! 
There  is  no  such  plague  in  Egypt,  land  of 
the  plagues  though  it  is.  At  the  foot  of  the 
Pyramids,  and  amid  the  ruins  of  K.arnak,  you 
will  be  equally  untroubled  by  a cicerone. 
True,  there  are  barefooted  Arabs  who  call 
themselves  guides ; but  they  usually  know 
about  half  a dozen  proper  names,  and  make 
up  for  the  rest  with  expressive  but  somewhat 
limited  pantomime.  And  so  you  are  turned 
back  upon  yourself  and  your  books.  ^ ou 
may  appeal  to  your  dragoman,  but  your 
dragoman,  though  he  has  been  travelling  up 
and  down  the  Nile  and  piloting  the  stranger 
among  its  ruins  for  half  a lifetime,  has  only 


152  THE  KILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS. 

learned  enough  to  smile  when  you  ask  him  a 
question,  and  say,  “ That  must  be  the  tomb 
of  Rameses — no  ? ” a form  of  response  that 
intimates  his  supreme  anxiety  to  please  you 
by  calling  it  anything  that  you  may  prefer — 
which,  according  to  his  understanding,  is  the 
one  function  of  a dragoman. 

In  a word,  you  are  in  a land  where  you 
must  be  your  own  guide.  You  cannot  go 
on,  day  after  day,  traversing  the  ruins  of  the 
most  magnificent  cities  and  temples  that  the 
sun  has  shone  upon,  without  knowing  some- 
thing, however  little,  about  them.  You  see 
tombs,  obelisks,  palace  walls,  covered  with  the 
most  expressive  as  well  as  the  most  venerable 
writing  which  human  wit  has  ever  invented. 
You  cannot  consent  to  be  such  a dolt  as  to 
continue  staring  at  them,  day  after  day,  with- 
out the  faintest  glimmering  of  what  may  be 
the  meaning  of  at  least  one  single  cartouch. 

Here  one  finds  his  occupation  for  the  days 
of  his  dahabeeh  life,  which,  while  it  does  not 
deserve  the  dignity  of  the  name  of  study,  has 
at  least  the  charm  of  diversion.  Then,  too, 
on  days  when  there  are  no  excursions — no 
pyramids  to  visit,  nor  temples  to  explore,  nor 
tombs  to  descend  into — there  is  the  Nile  it- 
self, with  its  endless  stream  of  life  and  its 


THE  NILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS.  153 

ever-changeful  banks.  As  I write  these  lines, 
the  wind  has  suddenly  changed,  and  my  cabin 
windows  look  down  on  a broad  river,  up 
which  there  comes  charging  a fleet  of  at  least 
a hundred  sail.  They  are  merely  the  shabby 
cargo  boats  of  the  natives,  on  which  often 
one  sees  only  a single  head,  doubtless  some- 
how attached  by  arm  or  leg  to  the  helm,  but 
hidden  out  of  sight  as  the  little  hulk  scuds 
by,  and  yet,  as  they  advance  with  their  huge 
lateen-sails  crossing  each  other  like  the  taper- 
ing wings  of  a bird,  they  form  a picture, 
framed  by  the  ragged  edges  of  the  Mokotam 
hills,  and  fringed  with  a broadening  belt  of 
palms,  which  makes  one  wonder  why  Egypt  is 
not  the  ideal  home  of  the  painter. 

Then,  too  there  is  the  perpetual  variety  of 
the  very  water’s  edge.  When  away  from 
Egypt  you  read  how  every  living  thing  in  the 
land  must  come  to  the  brink  of  the  Nile  to 
drink,  and  you  think  of  the  assertion  as  the 
exaggeration  of  the  traveller,  or  else — which 
is  much  more  probable — you  do  not  think  of 
it  at  all ; but  here  you  see  the  thing  itself, 
day  by  day,  and  all  day  long,  repeated  before 
your  eyes.  The  solitary  buffalo  cow,  the 
flocks  of  sheep,  the  ibis,  or  the  beautiful  bird 
which  stands  as  its  modern  representative. 


154  the  NILE  AND  THE  PYRAMIDS. 

the  troops  of  girls  with  their  water-jars  upon 
their  heads — all  these  go  to  form  a combination 
with  varieties  as  endless  as  a kaleidoscope,  and 
with  colors  at  once  infinitely  warmer  and  more 
varied.  It  is  undoubtedly  possible  to  be  dull 
on  the  Nile,  but  then,  it  must  be  when  one 
has  bandaged  his  eyes  and  stopped  his  ears. 
To  any  body  whose  senses  are  not  hopelessly 
asleep,  it  is  at  once  a perpetual  entertainment 
and  an  ever-fresh  surprise. 

Undoubtedly  it  has  its  drawbacks.  You 
have  no  daily  despatches,  and  you  cannot 
follow  the  fluctuations  of  the  stock  market ; 
but  it  consoles  you  to  reflect  that  you  are  sail- 
ing up  a river  whose  people  managed  to  rear 
an  empire  without  these  things,  and  whose  shat- 
tered and  fallen  monuments  to-day,  though 
scores  of  centuries  have  spoiled  and  hacked 
and  disfigured  them,  make  the  loftiest  and 
grandest  structures  of  modern  times  seem 
poor  and  tame  and  contemptible. 


XIV. 


Our  OiBs  la 

The  Smoke  of  a Factory  and  its  Suggestions 
— Machinery^  Taxation,  Rum,  and  Ruin 
Itnported  from  Christian  La?ids — Fngland’s 
Opportunity. 


About  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles 
above  Cairo,  on  the  Nile,  is  one  of  the  huge 
sugar  factories  of  the  Khedive.  The  Khe- 
dive, I believe,  owns  every  such  establish- 
ment in  Egypt,  and  each  one  of  them  breaks 
upon  the  vision  of  the  traveller  as  he  ascends 
the  river  with  a fresh  sense  of  incongruity. 
One  recognizes  it  afar  off  by  its  smoke,  and 
smoke  is  a phenomenon  in  Egypt.  In  a 
country  where  there  is  almost  no  wood,  no 
need  of  artificial  heat  for  one’s  comfort,  and 
no  consumption  of  fuel  save  for  cooking,  it 
must  be  so ; for  very  little  cooking  is  done, 


156  OUR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT. 

and  if  the  pot  is  made  to  boil  at  all,  it  is 
usually  by  the  combustion  of  corn-stalks. 

When,  therefore,  one  sees  the  horizon 
streaked  not  with  sunshine  but  with  smut,  it 
is  with  a feeling  that  the  sanctity  of  the 
landscape  has  been  somehow  violated.  This 
feeling  does  not  diminish  when  one  discovers 
that  the  smoke  comes  belching  forth  from  a 
hideous  upstart  smoke-stack,  which  thrusts 
its  ugly  bulk  straight  up  into  the  air  for  some 
scores  of  feet,  while  clustering  at  its  feet  are 
the  bald  and  common-place  buildings  which 
comprise  the  rest  of  the  “works.” 

This  civilized  impertinence,  disfiguring  the 
bank  of  the  Nile,  and  obstructing  the  view  of 
the  desert,  suggested,  nevertheless,  several 
questions,  which  could  only  be  answered  by 
visiting  it.  I found  it  quite  open  to  inspec- 
tion, and  before  I had  left  it  discovered  some 
one  who  was  both  able  and  willing  to  answer 
questions  about  the  enterprise,  if  I had  been 
disjrosed  to  ask  them ; but  by  that  time,  my 
questions  had  been  answered  through  my 
e)'es.  Here  was  a collection  of  somewhat  in- 
tricate and  costly  machinery,  ordinarily  en- 
trusted among  us  to  the  care  of  skilled  work- 
men, and  demanding  constant  watchfulness 
and  considerable  intelligence  in  its  use.  It 


OUR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT. 


157 


required  but  a glance  at  the  buildings  to  see 
that  they  had  been  reared  by  other  than 
an  Egyptian  architect,  and  equally  at  the 
machinery  within  them  to  see  that  it,  too,  was 
of  foreign  contrivance  and  construction.  In- 
deed, the  apparatus  I found  was  French,  and 
the  mind  that  superintended  it  was  that  of  a 
Frenchman.  Until  lately,  however,  the  super- 
intendent of  the  works  has  been  an  English- 
man. But  the  men  and  boys,  the  skilled 
and  unskilled  “ hands  ” alike,  were  Arabs, 
who  seemed  to  be  abundantly  equal  to  their 
work,  and  who  managed  the  machinery  with 
quickness  and  precision.  The  religion  of 
Egypt  precludes  the  employment  of  some  of 
the  processes  which  obtain  in  sugar  works 
elsewhere,  and  refining — at  any  rate  in  the 
works  at  Rhoda — is  not  carried  to  so  high  a 
point  as  with  us.  But  so  far  as  it  went  the 
work  was  apparently  well  done,  and  with 
every  regard  to  economy  and  thoroughness. 

The  one  thing  about  the  whole  that  was 
most  impressive  was  the  curious  change  which 
seemed  to  have  been  wrought  by  this  contact 
with  the  mechanical  ingenuity  of  the  West  in 
the  temperament  and  bearing  of  the  Arab. 
The  modern  native  of  Egypt  is  one  of  the 
most  cheerful  people  in  the  world.  Especially 


158  OUR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT. 

is  this  true  of  children,  who  greet  one  with 
a smile  as  instinctively  as  if  it  was  their  only 
language.  This  is  an  experience  which  meets 
one  with  a perpetual  sense  of  surprise,  and 
steel  your  heart  as  you  may  against  the  ever- 
lasting cry  for  backsheesh^  you  yield  again  and 
again  to  the  witchery  of  a smile  which  is  at 
once  so  beseeching  and  so  sunny  that  it 
would  melt  the  resolution  of  a stoic.  No 
matter  where  you  are — wandering  along  the 
river’s  bank,  or  careering  through  the  narrow 
streets  of  some  dilapidated  town  on  a donkey 
— you  cannot  come  upon  a child  so  suddenly 
that  it  will  not  smile  at  you.  And  when  one 
gets  far  enough  south  to  approach  the  bor- 
ders of  Nubia,  the  natives  will  swarm  about 
the  traveller  with  a simple  confidence,  dashed 
usually  with  a certain  laughing  playfulness, 
which  is  singularly  engaging. 

In  the  sugar  factory  at  Rhoda  all  the  mirth- 
fulness was  somehow  extinguished.  There 
was  plenty  of  “ sweetness,”  but  very  little 
“ light  ” — at  least  in  the  faces  of  the  men 
and  boys  whose  business  it  was  to  keep  the 
sweetness  simmering.  We  met  scores  of 
men  and  hundreds  of  boys,  but  I never 
caught  a smile  upon  the  face  of  any  one  of 
them.  I do  not  know  that  their  work  was 


OUR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT.  15 9 

harder  than  is  usual  with  persons  engaged  in 
such  industries,  and  there  was  no  evidence  of 
cruelty  or  hardship  in  the  manner  in  which 
the  daily  task  was  enacted.  Both  men  and 
boys  received,  I understood,  regular  wages, 
and  though  they  were  small  enough,  accord- 
ing to  our  ideas  of  the  value  of  labor,  they 
undoubtedly  represented  more  money  than 
the  persons  who  drew  them  had  ever  handled 
before. 

The  dull  and  listless  air  which  we  remarked 
was  occasioned,  as  I could  not  but  fancy,  by 
a loss  which  wages  were  powerless  to  repair. 
It  was  the  loss  of  freedom  and  of  the  old 
nomadic  life.  The  modern  Egyptian  calls 
the  wandering  Arab  a Bedouee,  but  there  is 
a spice  of  the  nomad  in  every  Arab,  how- 
soever he  may  live.  One  sees  it  in  the 
deserted  villages,  and  sees  the  ulterior  reason 
for  it  in  the  ever-changing  banks  of  the  Nile, 
which  from  time  to  time  compel  the  abandon- 
ment of  the  villages,  and  make  a wandering 
life  a sort  of  necessity  to  the  sustaining  of 
any  life  at  all.  But  along  with  this  roving 
life  there  goes  a strong  taste  for  being  in  the 
“open.”  The  Arab  loves  the  sunshine  and 
the  canopy  of  the  blue  sky,  and  provided  he 
can  have  these  he  is  happier  than  he  would 


i6o 


OVR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT. 


be  if  he  were  in  a palace.  Indeed,  this  pas- 
sion is  carried  so  far  as  to  upset  all  our  west- 
ern theories  of  hygiene.  An  Arab  loves  to 
lie  at  full  length  in  the  sun ; but  if  he  cannot 
do  that,  he  will  put  his  head  where  the  sun 
can,  at  any  rate,  beat  unobstructedly  upon  it. 
Instead  of  keeping  his  head  cool  and  his  feet 
warm,  he  goes  barefooted  in  all  weathers,  and, 
as  I saw  in  riding  through  the  streets  of 
Siout,  will  hang  with  his  bare  head  out  of  the 
doorway  in  the  blazing  sun,  while  his  bare 
feet  are  stretched  on  the  damp  stones  in  the 
shade,  and  be  intensely  happy  in  the  experi- 
ence. 

The  men  and  boys  who  work  in  the  Khe- 
dive’s sugar  factories  get  but  little  liberty  and 
less  sunshine,  and  hence  (is  it  an  inevitable 
consequence  ?),  while  they  are  not  bright  and 
cheery,  like  the  lowliest  of  the  felaheen  in  the 
fields,  they  are  too  often  vicious  and  sadly  in- 
temperate. As  we  strolled  through  the  en- 
virons of  these  factories  of  the  Khedive,  one 
of  the  party  remarked  how  much  they  wore 
the  air  of  similar  neighborhoods  at  home. 
It  did  not  occur  to  us  to  observe  why  this  was 
so  until  some  one  had  counted  five  “ corner 
groceries  ” in  which  the  means  of  drunken- 
ness were  cheaply  obtained.  At  another 


OUR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT. 


l6l 


town  on  the  river  some  of  us  had  witnessed 
a scene  which  presented  Mohammedanism  in 
its  best  light.  The  governor  had  come  on 
board  a traveller’s  dahabeeh  to  pay  his  respects 
to  the  Howadji,  and  according  to  the  some- 
what doubtful  usage  of  such  occasions,  was 
offered  wine,  which,  being  a Copt  and  not  a 
Moslem,  he  drank  without  hesitation.  In 
attendance  upon  him  was  a youth  who  stood 
just  within  the  doorway  during  the  interview. 
At  a sign  from  the  host  wine  was  offered  to 
him  also,  and  it  would  have  cheered  Mr. 
Gough’s  heart  to  see  the  look  and  hear  the 
cry  of  shocked  and  almost  indignant  recoil 
with  which  he  refused  it.  Alas,  that  his 
countrymen  have  so  many  of  them  forgotten 
the  lesson  that  their  prophet  taught  them  ! 
The  Greek  merchants  who  swarm  on  the 
Nile  have  blistered  its  banks  with  spirit 
shops,  and  arakee  and  maraschino  are  the 
favorite  beverages  of  the  men  who  live  in  the 
larger  towns  or  are  employed  in  the  public 
works. 

So  we  found  ourselves  wondering.  Do  rum 
and  machinery  inevitably  go  together.?  As 
we  strolled  out  of  the  sugar-works  we  found 
ourselves  in  the  neighborhood  of  a deserted 
Summer  palace  of  the  Khedives,  and  were 


i62 


OUR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT. 


invited  to  visit  the  adjacent  gardens.  The 
roses  were  in  bloom,  and  the  oranges  hung 
in  rich  clusters  upon  the  trees ; but  the  blos- 
soms were  nipped  by  the  raw  norther  that 
had  been  blowing  for  a week,  and  the  black- 
ened leaves  of  the  shoots  and  buds  showed 
that  those  northerly  breezes  had  brought  a 
blighting  frost  along  with  them.  It  was  a 
dismal  type  of  what  the  man  of  the  North 
and  the  West,  with  his  cold  and  grasping 
ways,  has  done  for  sunny  but  down-trodden 
Egypt.  We  have  given  her  machinery  to  en- 
rich her  rulers  and  to  pinch  and  impoverish 
her  people.  For  all  the  feet  that  have 
traversed  her  shores,  and  for  all  the  com- 
mercial enterprise  that  has  explored  her  won- 
derful river,  she  is  to-day  no  better,  but  rather 
worse.  Since  the  steam-boats  began  ascend- 
ing the  Nile,  the  crocodile  has  largely  dis- 
appeared from  its  banks  ; but  other  creatures, 
with  as  capacious  a maw  and  as  cruel  a 
purpose,  have  taken  his  j^lace.  And  to-day, 
though  a great  nation  has  undertaken  to 
resuscitate  her  finances,  it  would  seem  to  be 
purely  in  the  interest  of  foreign  bond-holders. 
“ Is  there  anything  in  Egypt,”  wrote  out  an 
English  inquirer  to  a resident  in  Cairo,  “ is 
there  anything  in  Egypt  which  will  bear  a 


OUR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT. 


163 


tax  that  is  not  already  taxed  ? ” The  answer 
was  so  coarse  that  I may  not  repeat  it  here ; 
but  when,  in  order  to  satisfy  royal  extrava- 
gance at  home  and  bond-holding  creditors 
abroad,  every  infant  is  taxed  to  an  amount 
equal  to  one  third  of  a soldier’s  wages  for  a 
month  the  instant  that  infant  is  born,  and 
when,  to  discourage  the  crime  of  infanticide, 
which  such  a system  of  taxation  inevitably 
provoked,  every  infant  that  dies,  no  matter 
how  soon  after  its  birth,  is  taxed  through  its 
parents  to  an  amount  equal  to  half  a month’s 
wages  of  an  ordinary  soldier,  the  dreadful 
and  desperate  wickedness  of  the  situation 
may  be  appreciated.  Of  course,  the  evil  is 
only  driven  a little  further  back,  and  crimes 
which  are  nameless  prevail  to  an  extent  which 
it  is  appalling  to  contemplate. 

All  this  seems  far  enough  off  from  the 
sugar  factory  of  Rhoda.  But  in  truth  the 
two  lie  close  together.  The  Christian  nations 
of  the  North  and  the  West  must  furnish 
Egypt,  if  they  would  save  it  from  something 
more  utter  and  remediless  than  financial  ruin, 
with  other  capital  than  machinery  or  military 
training  or  money.  Its  prince  and  its  pashas 
want  a wholesome  substratum  of  sound  moral 
ideas.  And  until  these  are  imported,  all 


164  OUR  GIFTS  TO  EGYPT. 

Other  importations  are  only  hastening  the  day 
of  a very  bitter  reckoning.  England’s  oppor- 
tunity is  a very  grand  one  ! Heaven  send  that 
she  may  have  the  wisdom  and  the  magnanim- 
ity to  improve  it ! 


nlmimt 


1. 

ol| 

Port- Said  and  its  People — A Mixture  of  Races 
and  Religions — Under  the  Flag  of  Russia — 
A Landing  at  foppa. 


Winter  it  certainly  was  not,  as  we  passed 
up  the  moonlit  streets  of  Port-Said  in  search 
of  a resting-place  in  which  to  spend  our  last 
Sunday  in  Egypt.  The  air  was  as  soft  and 
as  still  as  June,  and  the  hushed  plashing  of 
the  fountain  in  the  neighboring  square  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  midnight  hour  amid 
flowers  blooming  as  in  mid-Summer.  Even 
three  months  of  such  experiences  had  not 


i66 


THE  GATE  OF  SYRIA. 


familiarized  us  to  their  incongruity  with  all 
the  associations  of  our  American  almanac, 
and  we  went  to  our  beds  with  a sigh,  as  we 
thought  how  soon  the  harshness  of  a Syrian 
February  would  obliterate  these  sunny  mem- 
ories. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  but  the  only 
outward  and  visible  signs  of  it  were  an  un- 
wonted display  of  consular  bunting,  and  the 
discordant  banging  of  the  band  in  the  neigh- 
boring square.  We  inquired  of  a voluble 
personage,  who  announced  himself  as  “ Guide 
and  Dragoman  for  Port-Said,  reverend  sir,”  if 
there  was  any  Church  of  England  service; 
but  he  had  never  heard  of  any,  and  could 
only  offer  us  such  scanty  consolation  as  was 
to  be  found  in  the  fact  that,  to  use  his  own 
language,  he  had  until  recently  “ officiated 
himself  in  connection  with  the  English  chap- 
lain at  Alexandria.”  We  found  that  his 
“ officiating  ” consisted  in  having  been  verger 
for  a short  time  at  the  English  church,  and 
that  his  only  Orders  were  the  orders  from  the 
chaplain  to  collect  the  pew-rents.  Still,  there 
seemed  something  eminently  decorous  and 
suitable  in  being  shown  about  Port-Said  by 
an  ex-sexton,  and  there  was  a certain  unct- 
uous formality  in  the  way  in  which  he  called 


THE  GATE  OF  SYRIA. 


167 


our  attention  to  the  more  disreputable  feat- 
ures of  that  very  disreputable  town,  which 
somehow  threw  a veil  of  semi-ecclesiastical 
propriety  over  its  dirtiest  aspects. 

For  some  of  its  aspects  were  hopelessly 
dirty,  and  equally  without  the  air  of  Oriental- 
ism, which  elsewhere  in  Egypt  almost  recon- 
ciles one  to  dirt  and — worse.  Port-Said  is 

offensively  new,  and  it  has  not  the  advantage 
of  being  in  any  real  sense  an  Eastern  town. 
Created  by  the  Suez  Canal,  it  is  simply  a 
huge  bar-room,  where  the  ships  of  all  nations 
stop  and  buy  that  particular  form  of  ardent 
spirits  which  can  be  the  most  easily  adultera- 
ted, and  accomplish  the  most  pernicious 
effects.  Greeks,  Italians,  Russians,  Arabs, 
Jews,  Englishmen,  Egyptians,  and  French- 
men, jostle  each  other  in  its  streets,  and  a 
worse-looking  set  of  representatives  these 
various  races  and  nations  could  hardly  have. 
We  read  service  in  our  room  in  the  hotel  on 
Sunday  morning,  looked  in  for  a few  moments 
at  the  rather  tawdy  but  almost  affectingly 
devout  service  in  the  Greek  church  in  the 
afternoon  (where  a Nubian  slave-girl,  with  a 
white  child  in  her  arms,  recalled  the  days 
when  Cyril  ruled  in  Alexandria,  and  when 
all  Northern  Africa  was  as  unanimously  Chris- 


i68 


THE  GATE  OF  SYRIA. 


tian  as  to-day  it  unanimously  is  not),  and  the 
next  day  shook  the  last  grain  of  Egyptian 
dust  from  our  feet,  and  took  ship  for  Joppa, 
without  a lingering  sentiment  of  regret. 

Our  ship  was  Russian,  with  a crew  whose 
boots  scented  the  decks  with  a fragrance 
which  recalled  the  Astor  Library,  and  made 
one  look  about  for  concealed  editions  de 
luxe  of  Ruskin  or  the  Aldine  poets.  But  we 
discovered  that  the  Russia  leather  bindings 
were  on  the  sailors’  legs,  and  that  of  any 
other  literature  than  a restaurant-tariff  the 
vessel  was  quite  innocent.  Its  library  was  its 
living  cargo,  and  a more  curious  and  motley 
collection  it  would  be  hard  to  assemble.  Be- 
tween decks  were  stowed  some  hundreds  of 
people,  who  were,  most  of  them,  pilgrims  on 
their  return  from  Mecca.  It  lessened  a little 
the  respect  with  which  one  had  learned  to 
look  upon  the  pilgrim  of  whatever  species,  to 
perceive  that  these  were  most  of  them  sur- 
rounded by  comforts  which,  while  they  did 
not  affect  their  dirtiness,  must  have  contrib- 
uted to  make  their  journey  one  of  greatly 
lightened  hardship.  As  they  lay  about  the 
decks  upon  soft,  handsome  rugs,  sipping  their 
coffee,  and  rolling  their  cigarettes,  or  smoking 
hubble-bubble  pipes,  they  seemed  as  little 


THE  GATE  OF  STRIA. 


169 


like  palmers  as  any  of  their  fellow-passengers. 
But  if  one’s  respect  was  somewhat  lessened 
on  witnessing  the  facility  with  which  they 
softened  the  hardships  of  their  self-imposed 
vocation,  it  rose  again  as  sunset  approached, 
and  they  set  about  the  performance  of  their 
evening  devotions.  There  was  an  utter  ab- 
sence of  ostentation  in  the  way  in  which  each 
Moslem  spread  his  bit  of  carpet,  and,  turn- 
ing his  face  eastward,  murmured  his  prayer 
to  Allah.  And,  most  noticeable  of  all,  by 
virtue  of  its  contrast  with  what  is  to  be  ob- 
served among  ourselves,  this  open  reverence 
did  not  fail  in  those  who  were  of  a rank 
superior  to  that  of  the  pilgrims.  Among  the 
first  cabin  passengers  there  was  only  one 
Mohammedan,  a middle-aged  man,  in  a some- 
what severe  Syrian  costume.  Alone  he  paced 
the  deck  for  an  hour  before  the  sun  vanished 
beneath  the  horizon,  and  then  putting  off  his 
shoes  where  he  stood,  and  with  eyes  bent 
toward  Mecca,  he  knelt  with  his  forehead 
bowed  upon  the  deck,  and  “ prayed  as  he  did 
aforetime.”  The  gay  throng  upon  the  deck 
passed  and  repassed  him  with  jest  and  sneer; 
laughter  which  he  must  have  been  dull  in- 
deed had  he  not  discerned  that  he  himself 
had  provoked,  rang  in  his  ears ; but  his  face 


170 


THE  GATE  OF  SYRIA. 


was,  through  all,  as  unmoved  as  if  he  had 
been  both  deaf  and  blind.  One  could  not 
but  wish  that  our  modern  Christianity,  so 
shamedfaced  even  in  its  most  scant  exhibi- 
tions of  reverence,  could  learn  something  of 
the  fearless  openness  which  everywhere  dis- 
tinguishes the  Oriental. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  contrast  with  this  sunset 
scene  which  made  the  scene  below,  a little 
later,  so  much  less  welcome.  In  the  cabin, 
as  well  as  in  the  forecastle,  was  an  assemblage 
of  pilgrims  not  Moslem  but  Christian.  It  is 
not  usual  to  go  to  Jerusalem  before  March, 
but  there  were  some  of  our  country-people  on 
board  who  were  bound  thither,  and  who  be- 
guiled the  last  night  before  touching  the  con- 
secrated soil  of  the  Holy  Land  by  an  animat- 
ed and  prolonged  discussion  as  to  the  latest 
fluctuations  in  stocks,  and  the  probable  risks 
of  contingent  investments.  And  yet  they 
were  going  to  Jerusalem  with  no  other  motive, 
so  far  as  one  could  learn,  than  a reverent  curi- 
osity to  see  the  most  hallowed  spot  on  earth ! 

Falling  asleep  amid  some  such  speculations, 
I was  awakened  the  next  morning  by  the  soft, 
almost  beseeching  voice  of  my  dragoman, 
who,  Moslem  though  he  was,  evidently 
thought  no  more  charitably  of  my  own  rever- 


THE  GATE  OF  SYRIA.  17 1 

ence  for  Palestine  than  I had  done  of  my 
neighbors’.  “ It  is  after  six,  sir,”  he  reproach- 
fully remonstrated,  “ and  all  the  Christian 
gentlemen  are  on  deck.  Jaffa  is  in  sight.” 
In  one  sense  his  words  were  only  partially 
true.  As  I climbed  the  deck  a little  later,  a 
blaze  of  sunshine  flashed  a broad  path  across 
the  sea,  and  hid  everything  in  its  dazzling 
splendor.  On  either  hand  the  eye  caught  a 
scanty  fringe  of  buildings,  but  Jaffa  itself — the 
Joppa  of  the  New  Testament — was  eclipsed  by 
the  sun,  which  was  just  rising  behind  it.  It 
did  not  matter,  however.  It  was  all  holy 
ground,  and  as  my  glass  ranged  the  coast,  the 
snows  of  Carmel  gleamed  at  the  far  left,  and 
the  hills  of  Judea  lay  in  violet  beauty  to  the 
right.  Why  profane  the  emotions  of  such  a 
moment  by  attempting  to  reproduce  them ! 
It  was  in  vain  that  ohe  tried  to  remember 
Peter  and  Cornelius  and  Dorcas,  and  all  the 
godly  men  and  women  whose  names  have  been 
associated  with  Joppa.  That  distant  landscape 
stood  not  so  much  for  Joppa  as  for  the  land 
of  the  Son  of  Mary,  who  was  the  Son  of  God. 
And  remembering  Whose  eyes  had  once  over- 
looked those  same  hills  and  slopes,  all  other 
thoughts  were  hushed,  all  other  names  for- 
gotten. 


II. 


Getting  on  Shore — Turks  and  Yankees — A 
Convent  and  an  Orangery — Western  Iricre- 
diility — The  Start — A Hallowed  Highway. 


To  land  at  Jaffa  is  one  of  the  feats  of  mod- 
ern seamanship.  It  is  true  that  tradition 
makes  it  the  building-place  of  the  Ark,  but  if 
it  was,  one  can  almost  sympathize  with  the 
scepticism  which  sneered  at  Noah’s  apparent- 
ly quixotic  undertaking.  Launched  at  Jaffa 
the  Ark  could  never  have  been,  save  by  the 
deluge  which  lifted  it  off  the  stocks ; suppos- 
ing, that  is  to  say,  that  the  coast-line  in  those 
days  was  such  as  it  is  to-day.  A ragged  reef 
of  rocks  fences  in  the  town  with  a deadly  wall 
of  granite,  and  it  was  through  a narrow  gap  in 
this,  scarcely  twenty  feet  wide,  that  the  little 
felucca,  which  brought  us  from  ship  to  shore, 
felt  her  way  into  the  quieter  waters  beyond. 


JAFFA. 


173 


Fortunately  the  sea  was  calm,  and  the  sun  was 
scarce  two  hours  high,  when  we  found  our- 
selves standing  upon  Syrian  soil. 

What  a contrast  to  all  the  traditions  of  that 
soil  in  the  babel  of  tongues  which  welcomed 
us ! Seaport  though  it  has  been,  for  so  many 
changing  centuries,  it  seems  to  have  been  re- 
served for  Turkish  rule  to  make  Joppa  the 
most  perplexing  olla  podrida  of  eastern  and 
Avestern  nationalities.  Every  people  AA'hose 
soil  borders  on  the  Mediterranean,  from 
Spain  to  the  Bosphorus,  jostles  you  in  the 
narrow  streets,  and  as  you  emerge  from  them, 
you  see  a suburban  group  of  buildings,  so  un- 
mistakably “Yankee  ” in  their  white  clapboard 
investiture,  and  Avith  their  smart  green  blinds, 
that  you  remember  suddenly  that  Jaffa  is  also 
the  scene  of  that  rather  dismal  experiment 
knoAvn"  as  the  “American  Colony.”  American 
it  no  longer  is,  though  a feAV  of  the  original 
settlers  still  linger  amid  the  scenes  of  their 
dissensions  and  their  disappointments.  But 
AA’hat  even  American  smartness  could  not  do, 
on  this  unfriendly  shore,  German  thrift  is  ac- 
complishing Avith  less  ostentation,  and  Avith 
surer  promise  of  success.  A lad  acted  as  our 
guide  to  the  gardens  of  the  Franciscan  Con- 
vent, Avho  called  himself  American  born,  but 


174 


JAFFA. 


his  Arabic  was  far  more  fluent  than  his  Eng- 
lish speech  ; and  in  his  jacket  and  trousers  he 
looked  like  a waif,  eastern  in  speech  and 
manner,  and  western  only  in  his  raiment. 

He  served  us  well  and  faithfully,  however, 
and  led  us  to  a scene  which  literally  beggars 
description.  The  garden  of  the  Franciscan 
Convent  was  not  far  from  our  little  inn,  and 
the  way  thither  lay  through  a narrow  lane, 
with  a gigantic  hedge  of  cactus  on  either  hand. 
Such  a natural  fence  we  had  not  seen  before, 
but  a better  one  it  would  be  impossible  to  de- 
vise. Growing  with  a wanton  luxuriance,  and 
to  a height  of  some  twelve  or  fifteen  feet,  it 
offered  a screen  for  the  garden  treasures  hid- 
den behind  it,  which  the  most  daring  depre- 
dator would  be  slow  to  assail.  Once  entan- 
gled and  impaled  amid  its  thorny  points,  es- 
cape would  be  hopeless.  We  followed  its 
windings  a little  way,  till  we  found  our  prog- 
ress barred  by  a weather-stained  and  thor- 
oughly monastic-looking  gate,  which  was  open- 
ed, on  knocking,  by  an  Arab  laborer,  who 
scanned  us  warily,  and  then  admitted  us.  The 
enclosure,  which  is  called  a garden,  is  rather 
a huge  orangery,  varied  with  lemon  and  other 
fruit-trees,  and  edged,  as  we  found  on  pene- 
trating its  labyrinths,  with  almond-trees  in  all 


JAFFA. 


175 


the  virgin  beauty  of  perfect  flower.  We  had 
gone  but  a little  way  when  we  were  met  by  the 
ecclesiastic  who  presides  over  the  Convent, 
and  who  accompanied  us  through  the  grounds. 
There  was  a trace  of  the  friar  in  the  cord 
which  was  knotted  about  his  waist,  and  in  the 
beads  which  hung  at  his  side.  But  save  for 
these,  he  had  the  aspect  of  a hale  old  farmer 
— as  indeed  he  was.  Full-bearded  as  a back- 
woodsman, with  broad  shoulders  and  vigorous 
stride,  his  whole  air,  as  he  moved  about  among 
his  beloved  orange-trees,  smacked  of  anything 
rather  than  the  cloister.  And  his  pride  in 
these  fruits  of  his  toil  was  certainly  pardona- 
ble. I had  seen  orange  groves  in  many  a town 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  and  had  threaded 
my  way  among  the  gardens  of  the  Viceroy, 
both  at  Cairo  and  at  Siout  in  upper  Egypt,  but 
the  best  of  them  was  little  better  than  a desert, 
compared  with  these  acres  of  glistening  verd- 
ure, and  fragrant  blossoms,  and  masses  of 
golden  fruit.  Such  a scene  cannot  be  describ- 
ed, without  language  of  seeming  exaggeration ; 
but  I may  mention  that  I measured  one  of  the 
oranges  which  the  padre  kindly  plucked  for 
us,  and  that  its  circumference  was  somewhat 
over  eighteen  inches.  Indeed,  the  fruit  of 
these  gardens  has  long  been  widely  famous. 


i?6 


JAFFA. 


and  it  is  believed  that  they  are  watered  by 
subterranean  streams,  which  at  once  fill  the 
huge  wells  which  the  monks  have  dug,  and 
enrich  the  fertile  soil  above  them.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  we  could  understand  the  healthy  con- 
tentment of  the  old  friar,  and  our  only  wonder 
was  that  a brotherhood  with  so  goodly  a heri- 
tage did  not  include  a larger  number.  But 
one  other  monk,  the  old  man  told  us,  made  up 
the  whole  household.  He  himself  had  spent 
there  a long  life,  and  as  one  noted  the  grace- 
ful facility  with  which  he  used  his  native  Ital- 
ian tongue,  and  the  courtly  gentleness  which 
marked  his  bearing,  one  could  not  but  specu- 
late as  to  the  history  which  explained  his 
monkish  habit  and  his  life-long  exile. 

It  is  perhaps  a discreditable  admission  to 
make,  but  I must  needs  own  that,  during  our 
stay  in  Jaffa,  we  did  not  visit  the  house  of 
Simon  the  Tanner,  the  scene  of  Peter’s  vision, 
nor  the  residence  of  Tabitha,  the  Dorcas  of 
the  early  Church.  If  only  we  could  have 
forgotten  Joppa’s  checkered  history;  if  only 
we  could  somehow  have  eliminated  from  our 
recollection  the  stubborn  facts  of  Roman  and 
Norman  and  Turkish  conquests;  if  only  we 
could,  by  any  subtlety  of  logic,  have  reasoned 
ourselves  out  of  the  unwelcome  certainty  that 


JAFFA. 


177 


Vespasian  and  Godfrey  de  Bouillon  and  Sa- 
ladin  and  Sultan  had,  each  in  his  turn, 
dispersed  and  pulverized  every  meanest  habi- 
tation in  the  town,  we  might  have  found 
motive  enough  to  go  and  look  at  something 
which,  by  some  remotest  possibility,  was  stand- 
ing when  Peter,  looking  westward  toward  the 
Gentile  world,  saw  the  vision  which  taught 
his  stubborn  Israelitish  prejudices  so  new  and 
large  a lesson.  But  no  ; when  a pilgrim  of 
comparatively  modern  times,  Bertrand  de  la 
Broquiere,  who  visited  Jaffa  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  has  recorded  that  he  found  the  city 
so  utterly  razed  that  no  solitary  wall  or  roof 
was  left,  and  that  his  only  shelter  from  the 
burning  sun  was  a rude  reed  hut,  even  the 
most  sanguine  credulity  must  yield.  Yet  I 
think  we  felt  a little  bit  ashamed  when,  meet- 
ing some  of  our  fellow-voyagers  at  the  break- 
fast-table of  the  inn,  we  found  that  we  were 
alone  in  our  apathetic  incredulity,  and  that 
one  of  them  had  even  lingered  long  enough  to 
make  a careful  and  graphic  sketch,  under 
which  was  written,  “ The  House  of  Simon  the 
Tanner!  ” And  yet  this  is  called  the  age  of 
scepticism ! 

It  is  at  Jaffa  that  one  realizes  that  he  has 

fairly  left  behind  him  the  ordinary  convenien- 
12 


178 


JAFFA. 


ces  of  civilization.  Between  Jaffa  and  Jeru- 
salem the  Sultan,  provoked,  it  is  said,  by  a 
taunt  from  the  late  Emperor  of  the  French, 
has  constructed  a road  over  which  it  is  pos- 
sible for  a wheeled  carriage  to  pass ; but  his 
sympathy  for  the  modern  pilgrim,  or  his 
courtesy  to  Eugenie,  for  whose  convenience, 
it  is  said,  the  road  was  originally  constructed, 
seems  to  have  been  exhausted  in  the  process 
of  making  the  substructure ; for  the  super- 
structure is  reported  to  be  in  a condition 
almost  impassable  to  any  wheeled  conve)'- 
ance.  At  any  rate,  a saddle  seemed  the 
freest  and  most  congenial  seat  for  such  a 
journey,  and  though  we  engaged  a carriage, 
we  determined  to  use  it  as  little  as  possible. 

The  mounting  and  dej)arture  of  even  a 
small  party  involves  an  amount  of  bustle, 
and  includes  a little  army  of  attendants,  suffi- 
cient to  lend  to  the  expedition  an  excitement 
quite  its  own.  The  baggage  and  tents  are 
laden  on  mules ; there  is  a palanquin  for  the 
more  delicate  and  timid  traveller ; and  the 
shouts  of  the  muleteers,  the  imperious  com- 
mands of  our  conductor,  and  the  never-end- 
ing clamor  of  our  Arab  outriders,  combine 
to  make  up  a scene  of  strange  confusion. 
There  was  a soothing  sense  of  stillness  as  we 


JAFFA. 


179 


escaped  from  the  door  of  the  inn,  and,  quit- 
ting the  bustle  of  the  towix,  found  ourselves, 
erelong,  crossing  the  plain  of  Sharon,  barren 
indeed  of  the  roses  that  once  made  it  so  fair 
a vision,  but  dotted  here  and  there  with  the 
intensely  brilliant  blossoms  of  the  cocliquot, 
which  grows  wild  everywhere  in  central  Pales- 
tine, even  upon  soil  the  most  sterile.  As  we 
dismounted  and  gathered  a handful  of  them, 
their  lavish  wealth  of  coloring  gave  new 
meaning  to  the  words,  “ If  God  so  clothe 
the  grass  of  the  field ; ” for  these  exquisite 
blossoms  are  here  accounted  as  of  no  more 
value  than  the  merest  weed. 

The  road  from  Jaffa  to  Jerusalem  runs  past 
the  village  of  Ramleh,  which  some  have  fixed 
upon  as  the  site  of  the  ancient  Arimathea, 
and  where  to-day  there  is  a Latin  convent 
which  is  the  refuge  of  the  benighted  traveller. 
Here  we  had  arranged  to  pass  our  first  night, 
and  from  thence  to  push  on,  in  a single  day, 
to  Jerusalem.  It  is  only  a few  hours’  ride 
from  Jaffa  to  the  convent,  but  one  likes  to 
make  acquaintance  with  his  horse  for  the 
first  hour  or  two,  and  above  all  to  take  in  an 
actual  sense  of  his  surroundings,  without  con- 
fusion or  hurry. 

For  there  is  something  indescribably 


i8o 


JAFFA. 


Strange  in  the  first  view  of  scenes  which 
the  Bible  has  hallowed,  and  which  still  en- 
dure as  memorials  of  the  dealings  of  God 
with  His  chosen  people.  Comparatively, 
there  is  little  of  interest  between  Jaffa  and 
Ramleh,  and  yet  on  your  right  as  you  ride 
on,  just  beyond  yonder  ridge,  lies  Philistia, 
and,  embowered  in  trees  to  your  left,  gleam 
the  white  roofs  of  that  Lydda  where  once 
Peter  tarried  among  the  Christian  converts  of 
the  village,  and  where  he  healed  the  bedrid- 
den ^neas.  You  have  to  pause  to  realize 
whose  were  the  feet,  whether  of  eager  Apos- 
tles or  of  shrinking  converts,  that  have 
traversed  these  same  plains  and  dwelt  in 
these  same  villages.  And  when  one  lifts  his 
eyes,  there,  just  before  him,  as  it  seems,  rise 
those  Judean  hills  that  hide  Jerusalem  from 
his  sight,  standing  upon  the  slopes  of  which 
Joshua  looked  down  upon  the  fierce  fight 
which  his  countrymen  were  making  with  the 
Amorites,  in  the  memorable  valley  at  his 
feet,  and  from  whence,  watching  the  chang- 
ing fortunes  of  the  day,  he  cried,  “ Sun,  stand 
thou  still  upon  Gibeon,  and  thou,  moon,  in 
the  valley  of  Ajalon ! ” Amid  such  scenes 
what  does  it  matter  that  the  foot  of  the 
Moslem  profanes  the  sacred  soil } They 


JAFFA. 


l8l 


may  remove  the  ancient  landmarks,  and 
profane  the  holy  places,  but  they  cannot 
extinguish  their  hallowed  associations.  Still 
less  can  they  stifle  the  emotions  of  awe  and 
reverence  with  Avhich  the  Christian  wanderer 
must  needs  look  upon  scenery  made  forever 
memorable  by  those  events  which  were  turn- 
ing-points in  Hebrew  history,  even  as  it  has 
been  made  forever  sacred  by  the  journeys 
and  ministries  of  Apostles  and  martyrs. 


III. 


A Mohammedan  Graveyard — The  Tower  at 
Ra?nleh — A First  Night  in  a Monastery — 
The  Jertisalem  Roadway — A First  View  of 
the  Holy  City. 


It  was  an  hour  before  sunset  when,  mount- 
ing the  crest  of  a hill,  the  white  tower  and 
minarets  of  a distant  village  stood  out  clear 
and  sharp  on  a distant  slope.  The  sound  of 
hoofs  behind  me  announced  the  approach  of 
mounted  travellers,  and  turning  my  head,  I 
found  two  Arabs  rapidly  overtaking  me. 
'■  Ramleh  ? ” I said,  pointing  to  the  distant 
towers,  and  getting  for  my  answer  a murmur- 
ed assent,  I knew  that  our  halting-place  for 
the  night  was  now  near  at  hand. 

As  we  approached  it,  the  solitary  tower 
which  distinguishes  Ramleh  from  whatever 
point  it  is  approached,  came  more  distinctly 


RAM  LEU. 


183 

into  view,  and  in  a little  while  we  were  close 
upon  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  saw  on 
our  right  the  extensive  ruins  of  which  the  tow- 
er forms  the  most  conspicuous  feature.  My 
companions  were  wearied  with  their  day’s 
journey,  and  anxious  to  push  on  to  the  shelter 
and  repose  of  the  convent ; so,  taking  a mount- 
ed Arab  as  my  escort,  I turned  into  a narrow 
lane  that  opened  from  the  main  road,  and,  af- 
ter a few  moments,  found  myself  threading  my 
way  among  the  graves  of  what  was  evidently  a 
Mohammedan  burying-ground.  At  a little 
distance,  the  gnarled  and  twisted  trunks  of 
the  olive-trees  with  which  it  was  planted,  gave 
it  the  appearance  of  a New  England  apple- 
orchard,  and  the  gray  walls  and  square  tombs, 
all  alike  blistered,  and  incrusted  with  scanty 
moss,  made  the  scene  still  more  familiar.  The 
sheep  were  grazing  among  the  graves,  and  the 
early  Spring  verdure  mingled  with  the  traces 
of  harsher  weather,  as  seen  in  the  broken 
branches  and  the  bleached  faces  of  the  rocks, 
made  one  think  of  some  lowly  God’s-acre  on 
one  of  our  own  northern  hill-sides.  Only,  here 
the  rude  head-stones  were  each  of  them 
crowned  with  the  coarse  carving  of  the  Mos- 
lem turban,  without  which  no  grave,  whether 
of  Sultan  or  fellah,  is  here  accounted  com- 


184 


RAMLEH. 


plete.  Passing  on  by  the  path  winding  among 
the  graves,  I came  to  a low  archway  of  richly- 
hewn  stone,  and,  riding  through  it,  found  my- 
self in  a large  enclosure  not  unlike  the  close 
of  a cathedral,  round  three  sides  of  which  ran 
the  ruins  of  what  must  once  have  been  a state- 
ly and  beautiful  cloister.  Many  of  its  arches 
are  still  almost  perfect,  and  as  the  space  which 
they  enclose  is  closely  carpeted  with  turf,  one 
recalled  instinctively  some  such  ruins  as  mark 
the  site  of  Fountains  or  Tintern  Abbey.  The 
tall  tower  on  the  northern  side  of  the  enclos- 
ure stands  almost  intact,  and  though  the  Ara- 
bic inscription  over  its  doorway  bears  the  date 
A.  H.  718,  which  is  equivalent  to  a.  d.  1318, 
it  rises  as  square  and  complete  as  though  it 
had  been  reared  in  our  own  time.  The  in- 
scription which  follows  the  date  of  its  erection 
further  records  that  it  was  reared  by  a son  of 
“ our  Lord  the  Sultan,  the  martyr,  the  King 
el-Mansur,”  and  on  the  strength  of  this  state- 
ment, no  authority,  so  far  as  I can  learn  (with 
perhaps  a single  exception),  seems  disposed  to 
dispute  that  the  building  was  reared  as  a 
mosque,  and  by  the  Turks.  And  yet,  if  ever 
ruins  proclaimed  their  Christian  origin,  these 
do.  True,  the  sign  of  the  Cross  has  been  ef- 
faced, but  anything  more  unlike  Oriental  arch- 


itecture,  anything  more  distinctly  Norman- 
Gothic  in  its  general  characteristics,  anything 
which  betrays  more  unmistakably  the  handi- 
work of  those  warriors  and  builders  who  fol- 
lowed in  the  path  of  the  Crusades — anything, 
to  one  who  has  become  wonted  to  the  aspect 
of  ecclesiastical  ruins  in  Europe,  more  thor- 
oughly familiar,  it  would  be  hard  to  conceive. 
And  with  this  view  everything  in  the  history 
of  Ramleh  falls  in.  We  know  that  it  was  oc- 
cupied by  the  Crusaders  in  1099  ; that  St. 
George  was  adopted  as  its  patron  saint ; and 
that  one  of  the  buildings  in  the  town,  now  in 
use  as  a mosque,  was  once  a Christian  church, 
with  a nave  and  aisles,  principal  and  side 
apses,  a clerestory,  and  every  other  character- 
istic of  the  churches  of  that  period.  We  know 
that  for  at  least  200  years  it  was  a Christian 
city,  and  one,  as  standing  at  the  junction  of 
the  great  highways  from  Damascus  to  Egypt, 
and  from  Joppa  to  Jerusalem,  of  no  mean  im- 
portance. And  if  so,  what  more  probable  than 
that,  in  the  days  when  Richard  the  Lion- 
hearted  had  his  headquarters  at  Ramleh,  this 
noble  tower  and  its  surrounding  cloisters,  so 
expressive  of  the  spirit  of  their  builders  in 
their  simple,  sturdy  grandeur,  should  have 
been  built  and  hallowed  for  Christian  uses  ? 


i86 


RAMLEH. 


At  any  rate,  it  was  in  such  a faith  that  I climbed 
to  its  summit  and  looked  off,  as  the  day  was 
dying  out  of  the  sky,  upon  the  blue  Mediter- 
ranean on  the  one  hand,  and  the  mountains 
of  Judea  on  the  other.  And  there  was  some- 
thing of  thankfulness  in  the  thought  that  if, 
once,  the  grand  old  tower  had  crowned  a 
Christian  sanctuary,  time  had  not  spared  that 
sanctuary  to  be  profaned  by  Moslem  feet,  nor 
to  see  the  Cross  upon  its  summit  displaced  by 
the  Crescent  and  the  Star. 

One’s  first  night  within  monastic  walls  is  a 
somewhat  memorable  experience,  even  though 
no  monastic  vows  have  preceded  it.  Ours 
was  made  memorable  chiefly  by  the  comfort 
of  our  quarters  and  the  simple  cordiality  of 
our  welcome.  The  tales  of  travellers  had 
prepared  us  for  a dirty  bed  and  a starved 
table ; but  our  cells  were  spotless  in  their 
cleanliness,  and  if  a little  bare  as  to  the  walls, 
and  a little  hard  as  to  the  pillows,  yet  the 
hours  spent  in  the  saddle  had  prepared  us  for 
a sleep  which  did  not  need  to  be  courted 
with  any  luxurious  appliances.  Our  fare,  too, 
was  wholesome,  if  simple,  and  it  was  served 
by  a cheery,  healthy-looking  young  friar,  who 
made  us  thoroughly  at  home.  He  was 
Spanish,  as  were,  we  understood,  the  other 


RAMLEH. 


187 


three  or  four  members  of  the  Order  (all  were 
Franciscans),  who  were  associated  with  him. 
One  of  them,  we  learned,  presided  in  the 
kitchen,  and  after  our  evening  meal,  our 
whole  party  adjourned  thither  and  exchanged 
salutations  with  him.  It  seemed  an  odd 
realization  of  a “ religious  ” vocation  to  spend 
one’s  days  cooking  for  Protestants,  Jews, 
Turks,  heretics,  and  infidels,  who  might 
chance  to  knock  at  the  convent-gate  for  food 
and  lodging  with  the  means  to  pay  for  them ; 
but  'the  good  brother  seemed  thoroughly 
happy  in  it,  and  could  he  have  known  that 
one  of  our  fellow-travellers  had,  with  facile 
pencil  and  artistic  eye,  made  a most  clever 
sketch  of  him,  he  would  doubtless  have 
rejoiced  to  feel  that  having  served  many  a 
dish  with  the  juice  of  his  native  olive,  he  was 
in  turn  to  be  “ done  in  oil  ” himself. 

It  was  not  yet  daylight  when  we  were 
roused,  the  next  morning,  for  our  start,  nor 
long  before  we  found  ourselves  once  more  in 
the  saddle.  The  morning  was  lovely,  and 
the  air,  at  once  bracing  and  invigorating, 
made  mere  motion  a delight.  Our  way  lay 
past  point  after  point  of  interest ; now  Gezer, 
the  long-lost  royal  city,  whose  king,  attempt- 
ing to  relieve  Lachish,  was  killed  by  Joshua; 


i88 


RAMLEH. 


and  then  in  rapid  succession  past  Ajalon, 
Kirjath-jearim,  and  the  little  valley  of  Elah. 
It  is  true  that  some  authorities  dispute  the 
identity  of  the  latter,  and  maintain  that  it 
lay  some  fifteen  miles  westward,  nearer  to  the 
ancient  Philistia.  If  they  are  right,  then  the 
little  brook  which  we  crossed,  and  in  which  I 
watered  my  horse,  is  not  that  from  which 
David  chose  his  smooth  stone ; but  I preferred 
to  believe  that  it  was,  and  if  there  was  no 
better  evidence,  the  rounded  pebbles  with 
which  its  bed  was  strown  furnished  an  argu- 
ment not  without  its  weight. 

As  the  traveller  leaves  the  brook,  the  road 
grows  narrower  and  the  ascent  steeper,  and 
for  those  who  are  at  home  in  it,  the  saddle  is 
undoubtedly  the  most  comfortable  means  of 
journeying  to  Jerusalem.  But  it  ought  to  be 
known,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  are 
timid,  or  unwonted  to  horseback  exercise, 
that  there  is  a made  carriage-way  from  Jaffa 
to  the  very  walls  of  Jerusalem,  and  that  its 
only  defect  is  that  it  is  very  rough.  English 
guide-books,  written  by  those  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  English  roads,  as  smooth  as  a floor 
and  nearly  as  level,  speak  of  the  carriage- 
way to  Jerusalem  as  all  but  impassable.  It 
is  entirely  passable  to  any  one  who  does  not 


RAMLER. 


189 


mind  being  well  jolted — jolted  as  one  used 
to  be  in  the  early  days  of  travel  in  our  own 
White  Hills.  And,  as  a matter  of  fact,  it  is 
constantly  traversed  by  spring  wagons  which 
make  the  journey  from  Jaffa  sometimes  in  a 
single  day.  In  a word,  Jerusalem  is  entirely 
accessible  to  any  but  the  most  helpless  in- 
valid. 

And  that  it  is,  must  needs  rob  its  approach 
of  much  of  its  old  romance.  In  days  when, 
as  the  Holy  City  to  Jew,  Turk,  and  Christian 
alike,  it  was  the  object  of  devoutest  pilgrim- 
age, a journey  to  Jerusalem  was  full  of  e.\pe- 
riences  either  of  danger  or  of  surprise.  But 
our  pilgrimage  was  marked  by  nothing  more 
dangerous  than  the  overturning  of  a palan- 
quin in  which  one  of  our  party  was  travelling, 
and  the  only  surprise  was  from  the  approach 
of  a mounted  scout  sent  out  in  advance  to 
“ tout  ” for  a Jerusalem  hotel. 

As  he  charged  down  upon  us,  mounted 
upon  his  fleet  and  flying  steed,  there  was  a 
cry,  “ The  Bedouins ! ” but  as  he  rode  up  he 
drew  upon  us,  not  a pistol,  but  a hotel  card, 
and  demanded,  not  our  purses,  but  our 
patronage.  It  was,  perhaps,  a wholesome 
preparation  for  further  disappointments,  and 
yet  no  experience  of  the  commonplace  could 


JERUSALEM. 


190 

chill  the  emotions  of  awe  and  reverence  and 
thankfulness  with  which,  a little  later,  we 
climbed  the  last  ascent  that  barred  our  way, 
and  saw,  lying  a little  before  us,  belted  round 
by  its  eternal  sentinels,  the  hills — Jerusalem! 


IV. 


From  ihe  House-top — The  ''"Via  Dolorosa" — 
The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  the 
Mosque  of  Omar — The  Pool  of  Bethesda. 


It  was  a brilliant  morning  which  greeted 
us  when  we  climbed  the  house-top  to  begin 
there  our  first  day  in  Jerusalem.  Despite 
the  prophecies  of  flood  and  cold  with  which 
Ave  had  been  warned  if  Ave  attempted  to  see 
the  Holy  Land  in  February,  the  sky  Avas  as 
clear  as  the  brightest  October  day,  and  the 
sun  as  Avarm  as  many  a one  in  our  OAvn  mid- 
Summer.  The  Syrian  air  has  more  life  in  it 


JER  USALEM. 


19I 

than  that  of  Egypt,  and  after  enervating  days, 
when  the  mid-day  suji  upon  the  Nile  was  for 
a little  while  an  almost  intolerable  burden,  it 
was  singularly  exhilarating  to  breathe  once 
more  the  air  of  the  hills. 

And  one  needs  something  exhilarating  to 
sustain  him  amid  the  inevitable  disappoint- 
ments of  first  days  in  Jerusalem.  For,  famil- 
iar as  one’s  reading  may  have  made  him  with 
all  in  the  Holy  City  that  is  incongruous  with 
its  consecrated  associations,  the  actual  con- 
tact with  those  incongruities  is  inexpressibly 
shocking — I had  almost  written  sickening. 
^Ve  had  meant  to  go,  first,  upon  the  walls, 
which,  being  comparatively  modern,  are  in  a 
fair  state  of  preservation,  and  then,  passing  on 
from  point  to  point  in  their  circumference, 
take  in  the  general  outlines  of  the  neighbor- 
hood and  the  principal  localities  of  interest. 
In  such  comparative  solitude,  I had  said  to 
myself,  one  would  have  a chance  to  grasp  the 
topography  of  Jerusalem,  undisturbed  for  once 
by  the  droning  impertinences  of  a guide,  or 
by  dismal  clamors  for  backsheesh.  Circum- 
stances, however,  turned  our  footsteps  anoth- 
er way,  and  as  I found  myself  on  the  road  to 
the  church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  it  was  with 
the  feeling  that  a painful  task  would  soon  be 


192 


JERUSALEM. 


over,  and  one  be  left  freer  for  more  congenial 
scenes.  Some  there  are,  doubtless,  who  can 
go  and  witness  the  battle-ground  of  Christian 
sects  over  what  ought  to  be  the  most  hallowed 
spot  on  earth,  and  be  so  filled  with  the  loftier 
emotions  of  its  supposed  sacred  associations, 
as  to  feel  no  shock  in  the  recollection  that  to- 
day Christians  of  different  names  are  kept,  at 
Easter-tide,  from  tearing  each  other  to  pieces, 
simply  by  the  coarse  power  of  the  Turkish  po- 
lice. But  I confess  I recoiled  from  looking 
upon  a spot  which  must  needs  revive  such 
memories,  and  awaken  impressions  so  unwel- 
come. Would  that  what  I did  see  had  cost 
me  nothing  more  ! How  shall  I e.xpress  the 
sense  of  shame,  the  utter  loathing  at  the  spec- 
tacle of  bitter  incongruity  which  now  salutes 
the  pilgrim  to  the  tomb  of  Christ,  with  which 
one  who  comes  there  for  the  first  time  must, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  needs  be  filled.’  Turning 
out  of  a narrow  street  filled  with  Jew  money- 
changers and  shabby  dealers  in  shabbier  wares, 
and  which  is  called,  oddly  enough,  Christian 
street,  you  find  yourself  descending  a flight  of 
steps,  which  was  once,  you  are  told,  a part  of 
the  Via  Dolorosa.  Along  its  sides,  as  you 
pass  down,  are  squatted  hawkers  of  beads, 
carved  shells,  crosses,  and  other  similar  wares. 


JERVSALEM. 


193 


supposed  to  have  attractions  as  memorials  of 
the  Holy  City,  jumbled  together  in  one  unin- 
viting hodge-podge  with  cheap  jewelry,  cigar- 
ette-holders, tobacco-pouches,  and  the  like — 
the  whole  being  arranged  with  a thrifty  eye  to 
the  patronage  both  of  the  devout  and  the  pro- 
fane. Past  these  the  way  lies  across  an  open 
square,  crowded  with  hucksters  in  tawdry  im- 
ages and  cheap  ear-rings,  until  one  enters  the 
church  which  the  mother  of  Constantine  rear- 
ed over  the  spot  where  once  was  laid  the  body 
of  the  dead  Christ.  It  is  not  a large  struct- 
ure, but  its  roof  covers,  or  claims  to  cover, 
almost  every  spot  which  the  Christian  heart 
reveres  from  its  associations  with  the  last 
hours  of  our  Lord’s  earthly  life.  In  the  face 
of  the  most  obvious  improbability,  nay,  in  ut- 
ter disregard  of  the  most  absurd  contradic- 
tions, one  is  shown  scenes  and  places  at  once 
the  most  remote  and  disconnected.  The  Holy 
Sepulchre,  the  hill  of  Calvary,  the  scenes  of 
the  mockery,  are  all  pointed  out  as  scarce  a 
hundred  feet  from  each  other.  You  mount  a 
flight  of  stairs  and  have  pointed  out  to  you 
the  holes  in  which  the  three  crosses  stood, 
and  within  a foot  or  two  of  one  of  them  the 
fracture  where  the  “ rocks  were  rent.”  And 
yet,  underneath  this  very  spot  is  a robing-room 


'3 


194 


JERUSALEM. 


or  sacristy,  which  is  regarded  as  having  no 
particular  sanctity  whatever  ! But  I have  no 
heart  to  pursue  the  story.  Of  course  we  saw 
all  that  the  records  of  travellers  have  made  so 
familiar,  and  as  we  looked,  the  sense  of  the 
dreary  hollowness  and  bitter  mockery  of  the 
whole  grew  every  moment  more  keen.  Stand- 
ing under  the  dome,  one  noted  the  Coptic 
chapel,  the  Greek  altars,  the  Armenian  clois- 
ters, and  Roman,  Russian,  and  Austrian  sanct- 
uaries and  shrines.  But  even  their  own 
priests  treated  them  with  the  scantiest  respect, 
and  Arabs  and  Moslems,  strolling  to  and  fro, 
did  not  even  uncover  themselves  in  the  holy 
place.  Our  guide  was  a native  of  Jerusalem, 
who  called  himself  a “ Christian  Greek,”  by 
which  I presume  he  meant  a member  of  the 
Greek  Church  ; but  he  told  his  tale  with  an  air 
which  showed  how  slight  a realization  of  the 
scenes  of  which  he  spoke  had  ever  crossed  his 
mind,  and  even  while  he  told  it,  our  Cairene 
dragoman,  following  us  about  with  an  air  of 
compassionate  contempt  for  the  silly  supersti- 
tions of  the  Christians,  bade  the  lad  sharply 
to  beware  how  he  spattered  his  dapper  gar- 
ments with  the  drippings  of  his  candle. 

And  so  our  pilgrimage  to  the  supposed 
scene  of  the  Resurrection  came  to  an  end. 


JERUSALEM. 


195 


It  would  have  lacked  its  wonted  accompani- 
ment if  the  greasy-looking  ecclesiastic  who 
lighted  us  into  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  who 
sprinkled  us  while  we  lingered  there  with 
rose-water  (why,  I could  not  divine),  had  let 
us  out  again  without  an  eye  hungry  for 
backsheesh,  and  still  more  would  our  experi- 
ence of  sight-seeing  in  the  East  have  been 
exceptional  if  we  had  escaped  from  the  porch 
of  the  church  without  a more  peremptory 
challenge  of  the  same  purport.  Nor  did  we. 
When  we  entered,  the  church  doors  were 
wide  open,  with  no  sign  or  hint  of  concealed 
guardians.  But  when  we  undertook  to  leave, 
the  doors  were  brusquely  closed  in  our  faces, 
and  we  had  to  buy  our  way  out  with  ample 
fees.  It  formed  a fitting  conclusion  to  the 
whole  that,  as  we  turned  once  more  into 
the  Via  Dolorosa,  the  most  conspicuous  legend 
which  confronted  us  was  written  over  a 
drinking-shop,  which  thrust  itself  forward 
with  offers  of  “ Vins  et  Bonbons  dcs  ioiites  les 
Varieties."  And  this  was  the  street  and 
these  were  the  scenes  that  the  Saviour  of  the 
world  had  hallowed,  in  the  supreme  moments 
of  His  earthly  life ! Would  it  not  have  been 
better  never  to  have  seen  them  at  all,  than, 
seeing  them,  to  find  in  the  seeing  so  much 


196 


JERUSALEM. 


that  shocked  and  wounded  one’s  every  senti- 
ment of  reverence  ? As  I asked  myself  this 
question,  I found  myself  envying  one  of  my 
companions,  whose  emotions  until  that  mo- 
ment I had  hardly  regarded.  He  was  a 
Maltese  servant  in  attendance  upon  our  party, 
who  had  gone  with  us  into  every  chapel, 
crypt,  cave,  and  cloister  which  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  included.  And  to  him 
they  had  all  been. real ; no  shrine  so  tawdry, 
no  relic  so  impudent  a fraud,  no  pretended 
scene  of  a great  event  so  utterly  and  abso- 
lutely improbable,  but  that  he  had  bent  his 
knee  and  bowed  his  head  before  it  in  deepest 
homage  ■ of  superstitious  reverence.  “ Happy 
ignorance — blessed  credulity,”  one  found  him- 
self almost  in  peril  of  crying,  “ so  willing  to 
be  persuaded,  nay,  so  eager  to  believe.” 

Was  it  with  a keen  Moslem  sense  of  the 
mockery  of  the  contrast,  that  our  Moham- 
medan dragoman  arranged,  in  the  afternoon, 
that  we  should  go  and  see  the  Mosque  of 
Omar  ? At  any  rate,  one’s  sense  of  humilia- 
tion as  a Christian,  could  hardly  have  been 
made  keener  than  by  some  such  process. 
Standing  amid  the  cool  and  spacious  stillness 
of  the  beautiful  enclosure  known  as  the  Haram, 
the  mosque  rises  from  the  summit  of  Mount 


JERUSALEM. 


197 


Moriah  in  a stately  majesty  which  utterly 
eclipses  every  other  building  in  Jerusalem. 
And  within,  it  is  as  beautiful  as  it  is  noble 
without.  Its  vast  proportions,  splendid  adorn- 
ments, and  rich  yet  chastened  light,  make  it 
a structure  fitted  in  every  way  to  awaken 
reverence  and  quicken  devotion.  As  one 
enters  it  he  exclaims  instinctively,  “ If  it  is 
well  that  any  human  superstructure  should 
mark  the  place  hallowed  as  the  sepulchre  of 
Christ,  here  is  a building  worthy  for  such  a 
use.”  As  noble  in  its  pure  and  stainless 
simplicity  as  the  church  of  Helena  is  impure 
and  ignoble  in  its  tawdry  shabbiness,  it  makes 
one  understand  how  the  Turk  must  turn  from 
its  doors  with  a fresh  pride  in  his  own  faith 
and  his  own  prophet,  and  with  a fresh  scorn 
for  those  Christians  who  can  boast  and 
wrangle  so  much,  and  yet  build  and  adorn  so 
poorly. 

Perhaps  it  was  to  teach  us  a healthier  and 
larger  view  of  the  whole  matter  that  our  way 
home,  at  the  end  of  the  day,  led  us  past  the 
spot  which  was  once  the  pool  of  Bethesda. 
Now  it  is  no  longer  a pool  at  all,  but  simply  a 
yawning  pit,  over  whose  mouth  might  be 
written  the  legend,  “ Rubbish  shot  here,”  and 
from  whose  depths  rose  the  stench  of  every 


198 


OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS. 


imaginable  and  unimaginable  form  of  filth  and 
garbage.  And  yet  here,  once,  an  angel  came 
down  and  troubled  the  waters,  and  he  who 
first  descended  into  them  was  healed. 

And  even  as  the  Divine  ministry  of  healing 
has  not  vanished  out  of  the  world,  though  an- 
gels no  longer  trouble  any  earthly  waters,  even 
so  the  world’s  heart  of  reverence  and  love  for 
Christ  is  not  dead,  though  foolish  men  profane 
His  last  resting-place  with  tawdry  ceremonial, 
or  dishonor  it  Avith  mutual  hatreds  and  dissen- 
sions ! 


V. 

Outsihc  % V([n\h  of 

David's  Tomb — The  Ticld  Aceldatna — The  Pool 
of  Siloam — The  Garden  of  Gethsemane. 


No  matter  what  vieAV  the  traveller  may 
take  of  the  vexed  question  of  the  topography 
of  Jerusalem,  the  fact  still  remains  that  the 
places  of  greatest  interest  are  those  outside 
its  walls ; for,  even  if  it  be  possible  to  prove 


OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS.  1 99 

that  the  nominal  site  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
is  the  real  site,  it  still  seems  more  than  prob- 
able that  every  other  most  sacred  spot  was 
beyond  the  line  of  the  present  fortifications. 
There  was  infinite  relief,  therefore,  in  passing 
the  Jaffa  gate,  in  the  thought  that  one’s  way 
was  to  lie,  for  at  least  a single  afternoon,  through 
scenery  concerning  whose  identity  there  could 
be  but  little  doubt. 

The  venerable  Bishop  of  Jerusalem,  Dr. 
Gobat,  had  mentioned,  in  answer  to  a ques- 
tion as  to  the  trustworthiness  of  tradition 
concerning  sacred  places  in  and  about  the 
Holy  City,  that  he  could  feel  positively  cer- 
tain only  concerning  three.  It  was  to  one 
of  these,  the  tomb  of  David,  that  our  guide 
first  led  us,  and  if  we  had  consented  to  judge 
it  by  superficial  appearances,  our  faith  would 
have  been  sorely  shaken.  Despite  the  un- 
doubted fact  that  Jerusalem  has  been  razed 
to  the  ground  again  and  again,  and  that, 
except  the  tower  of  Hippicus,  and  possibly 
one  or  two  other  fragments  of  buildings,  there 
is  nothing  now  remaining  above  the  surface 
that  is  more  than  a few  hundred  years  old 
despite  the  fact,  too,  that  whatever  tombs  are 
ancient  must  needs  be  below  the  level  of  the 
old  city,  on  the  buried  ruins  of  which  the 


200 


OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS. 


present  city  is  built ; despite  the  fact  that  an 
elevated  structure  as  a place  of  burial  is  a 
violation  of  all  the  usages  of  the  East,  we 
were  nevertheless  taken  upstairs  into  a very 
modern  looking  building,  standing  on  the 
southern  slope  of  Mount  Zion,  and  shown 
a sarcophagus  said  to  contain  the  remains  of 
David,  stowed  away  in  an  upper  room  ! But 
little  more  was  needed  to  complete  the 
ghastly  travesty  of  the  whole  thing,  and  that 
little  was  not  wanting.  The  tomb,  it  seemed, 
formed  a sort  of  appendage  to  a Moslem 
mosque.  The  custodian  was  a ]\Ioham- 
medan,  whose  harem  was  lodged  almost  at 
its  very  door,  and  the  drapery,  at  once 
cheap,  tawdry,  and  shabby,  with  which  it 
was  hung  about,  was  in  no  wise  different 
from  that  which  we  had  seen  adorning  the 
tomb  of  many  a Arab  sheik.  As  if  to  snap 
the  last  lingering  thread  of  one’s  credulity, 
the  catafalque.,  or  tomb,  was  constructed  so 
as  to  appear  about  ten  or  twelve  feet  long ; 
and  when  I asked  one  of  our  Moslem  attend- 
ants if  he  supposed  David  to  have  been  so 
tall  a man,  he  gravely  assured  me  that  he 
had  no  doubt  of  it ! 

On  the  other  hand  there  is  a chain  of  testi- 
mony which,  though  I may  not  linger  to 


OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS. 


201 


rehearse  it  here,  seems  to  verify  the  identity 
of  the  spot  with  singular  conclusiveness. 
We  know  that  in  St.  Peter’s  time,  to  quote 
his  own  words  concerning  David’s  tomb 
(Acts  ii.  29),  “ his  sepulchre  is  with  us  to 
this  day ; ” and  it  is  probable  that  the  very 
curiosity  which  led  Jerome,  and  other  Chris- 
tians after  him,  to  devote  themselves  almost 
exclusively  to  the  identification  of  places 
having  Christian  associations,  has  preserved 
this  spot  from  a curiosity  which  was  some- 
times as  destructive  as  it  was  irreverent. 

There  is  something  profoundly  impressive 
in  the  view  that  greets  one  as,  riding  forth 
from  the  enclosure  which  stands  about  the 
tomb  of  David,  his  eye  falls  on  the  bleak  and 
distant  hill-side,  which  tradition  connects  with 
the  suicide  of  Judas.  Here  and  there  upon 
its  rugged  steeps  there  are  trees,  which  over- 
hang a precipice  whose  sheer  descent  is  some 
forty  or  fifty  feet.  If  one  ever  hung  suspend- 
ed from  a branch  of  these  trees,  it  is  easy  to 
see  how  the  breaking  limb  would  have  hurled 
his  body  to  be  torn  and  crushed  upon  the 
rocks  below.  And  thus  the  miserable  fate  of 
the  traitor  and  apostate  lives  before  the  eye  in 
a horrible  reality.  As  one  thinks  of  the  royal 
sinner,  guilty  and  stained  with  /lis  crime,  but 


202 


OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS. 


finding  his  way  back  at  last  through  tears  and 
repentance  into  the  favor  of  the  Father,  and 
then  of  that  other,  whose  sin,  not  of  impulse, 
but  of  craft  and  of  deliberation,  suffered  him 
to  find  no  place  for  repentance,  there  rises  to 
the  view  that  bleak  and  barren  slope  on  which 
he  took  his  own  wretched  life,  and  which 
seems  a fitting  setting  to  the  picture  of  so  dark 
an  end. 

It  is  with  a sense  of  relief  that  one  rides  on, 
and  past  such  scenes,  and,  leaving  the  valley 
of  Hinnom  and  the  field  of  Aceldama  behind 
him,  finds  his  way  leading  down  the  winding 
bank  of  the  Kedron  to  the  Pool  of  Siloam. 
It  is  to-day  as  it  was  two  thousand  years  ago, 
a centre  of  blessing  alike  to  towns-people  and 
wayfarer.  As  we  approached  it,  flocks  were 
grouped  near  it  on  every  hand,  and  dismount- 
ed horsemen,  camel-drivers,  and  donkey-boys 
were  all  eagerly  slaking  their  thirst  with  its 
cool  and  limpid  waters.  The  pool  or  spring 
itself  lies  hidden  away  beneath  a subterranean 
archway,  which  is  probably  of  comparatively 
modern  date,  but  the  stair-way  leading  down 
to  the  pool  looks  as  though  it  might  have  been 
worn  by  the  feet  of  a hundred  generations, 
and  I found  myself,  as  I lingered  at  its  head, 
picturing  the  approach  of  one  whose  sightless 


OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS. 


203 


eyes  and  faltering  steps  must  have  aptly  sym- 
boled  the  hesitating  faith  with  which  he  felt 
his  way  down  to  those  waters  which  were  to 
give  him  back  his  sight.  With  what  a differ- 
ent step  he  must  have  climbed  those  stairs 
again,  as,  running  back,  he  knelt  to  bless  the 
Hand  that  had  so  wonderfully  healed  him  ! 

Turning  to  the  left  from  the  Pool  of  Siloam, 
the  way  round  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  lies 
northward  past  the  town  of  the  same  name, 
where  once  stood  the  tower  which,  falling, 
killed  eighteen  persons,  and  past  the  tombs  of 
Absalom,  Jehoshaphat,  Zecharias  the  martyr, 
and  St.  James  the  Just.  At  least  these  are 
the  names  assigned  to  some  imposing  struct- 
ures concerning  whose  identity,  however, 
there  is  only  the  most  doubtful  evidence.  Why 
was  it  that  we  looked  with  most  interest  (I 
had  almost  written  sympathy)  at  the  reputed 
tomb  of  Absalom  ? At  any  rate  I did  not  find 
myself  moved  to  imitate  a custom  of  the  land 
which  oddly  enough  has  found  Christian  im- 
itators. Both  Moslem  and  Israelite,  it  seems, 
take  pains,  when  passing  the  tomb,  to  hurl  a 
stone  at  it  as  an  expression  of  their  horror  at 
the  unfilial  conduct  of  Absalom  ; and  we  had 
the  example  of  some  eminent  Christian  trav- 
ellers held  up  to  us  as  a motive  for  doing  the 


204 


OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS. 


same.  If  we  declined,  it  was  certainly  from 
no  disposition  to  estimate  lightly  the  sin  of 
that  son  who  all  but  broke  his  father’s  heart. 
But  it  is  questionable  whether  such  an  utterly 
senseless  custom,  no  matter  how  sanctioned, 
can  have  any  other  than  a most  unwholesome 
effect  upon  the  ignorant  Arabs  who  witness  it. 

Our  way  ended,  ere  we  turned  into  the  city 
again,  by  St.  Stephen’s  Gate,  at  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane.  Here,  as  at  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  Latin  Christianity  has 
done  all  that  it  can  to  efface  all  traces  of  the 
identity  of  the  spot.  There  is  everything  in 
the  situation  of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  as 
shown  to-day,  to  indicate  that  it  occupies  a 
site  near  that  consecrated  scene  of  the  Sav- 
iour’s agony.  It  is  on  the  way  from  Jerusa- 
lem to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  it  is  near  the 
Kedron,  it  is  shaded  by  venerable  olive  trees. 
But,  strangely  enough,  the  very  modern  wall 
which  encloses  it  excludes  that  part  of  the 
ground  directly  bordering  upon  the  brook 
Kedron,  close  to  which  was  undoubtedly  the 
thickest  shade,  and  therefore  the  most  com- 
plete retirement  in  the  whole  garden.  And 
then  so  much  of  the  garden  as  is  enclosed  is 
deformed  and  disfigured  by  petty  subdivisions 
of  wooden  palings,  and  surrounded  by  some 


OUTSIDE  TEE  WALLS. 


205 


dozen  “ stations  ” with  the  most  pitifully  crude 
and  hideous  statuary  on  a diminutive  scale. 
Add  to  this  a bland  and  plausible  old  monk, 
who  buzzes  about  the  garden  gathering  nose- 
gays, which  he  tenders  with  an  insinuating 
smile,  and  for  which  he  expects  a liberal 
backsheesh,  and  you  have  wellnigh  every  influ- 
ence which  could  conspire  to  destroy  the 
tender  and  sacred  associations  of  the  place. 
But  not  quite  every  such  influence,  for  as  you 
follow  a path  running  round  the  inside  of  the 
walls,  you  come  upon  a tank  or  reservoir,  evi- 
dently of  recent  construction,  and,  as  evident- 
ly, of  cheap  and  perishable  material,  on  which 
is  blazoned  in  broad  and  staring  capitals  the 
name  of  its  American  donor ! The  utmost 
reach  of  questionable  taste,  and  still  more 
questionable  reverence,  could  not  well  go 
further  than  this. 

And  yet,  no  pettinesses  of  human  orna- 
ment or  human  impertinence  can  quite  de- 
stroy the  influence  of  the  spot.  The  very 
trees,  which  may  easily  be  twelve  hundred 
years  old,  and  which  may  as  easily  (as  is  the 
case  with  the  olive)  have  sprung  from  the 
roots  of  other  trees  long  ago  cut  down,  stand 
as  worn  and  weather-beaten  sentinels  over  a 
spot  whose  every  surrounding  marks  it  as 


2o6 


OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS. 


that  walk  in  which  our  Lord  wrestled  in 
darkness  and  alone ; and  as  one  lifts  his  eyes 
from  the  shadows  which  gather  beside  the 
Kedron,  he  sees  above  him — as  who  shall 
say  the  Master  did  not  see  it  ? — that  gate 
from  which  the  traitor  and  his  companions 
must  needs  have  issued  as  they  came  to  take 
Him  ; and,  rising  beyond,  the  towers  of  that 
Jerusalem,  whose  children  were,  on  the  mor- 
row, to  reject  Him  with  mockery  and  scorn. 
It  is  true  that  nearly  two  thousand  years  have 
come  and  gone  since  then,  but  Olivet  stands 
looking  down  upon  the  pilgrim  of  to-day,  as 
its  silent  summit  bent  over  the  kneeling 
Christ,  whose  feet  had  then  so  lately  climbed 
its  streets  ; and  the  banks  of  the  Kedron,  the 
neighboring  road  to  Bethany,  and  every  least 
and  lowliest  lineament  of  the  landscape  sa- 
lutes one  now  as  then.  And  so  it  was  in  vain 
that  a childish  sentimentalism  had  profaned 
and  disfigured  the  sacred  spot  with  its  tawdry 
adornments.  Its  incomparable  spell  was 
upon  it,  and  we  threaded  its  narrow  paths 
with  hushed  voices  and  with  throbbing 
hearts. 


VI. 


OHuat  anh 


A Syrian  La7idscape — The  Mount  of  Olives — 

Afi  Anciejit  Totnb — The  Road  from  Bethany 

to  Jerusalem. 

The  one  spot  which  the  eye  instinctively 
seeks  from  any  elevation  near  Jerusalem  is 
the  Mount  of  Olives.  It  is  not  the  most 
conspicuous  feature  in  a view  from  the  neigh- 
boring hills,  and  the  stately  domes  of  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  the 
Mosque  of  Omar  far  eclipse  it  in  those  char- 
acteristics which  at  first  arrest  attention. 
But  the  eye  turns  from  them  almost  as  soon 
as  their  glittering  finials  have  caught  its 
notice.  They  are  unmistakably  modern  and 
unmistakably  artificial.  But  as  one  looks 
from  whatever  point  at  Olivet,  its  supreme 
charm  is  that  it  has  no  other  adornment  than 
nature.  True,  there  are  a few  scattered 


2o8 


OLIVET  AND  BETHANY. 


dwellings  and  the  ugly  minaret  of  a species 
of  dwarfed  mosque  near  its  summit ; but 
these  are  hardly  noticeable  from  a distance, 
and  they  do  not  greatly  mar  the  simple  unity 
of  the  whole  picture.  As  I saw  it,  and  as  it 
has  doubtless  looked  to  thousands  of  other 
pilgrims,  it  was  the  very  abode  of  peace  and 
rest.  There  are  few  strong  contrasts  in  a 
Syrian  landscape.  The  soft  gray  stone  of 
the  houses,  the  equally  soft  or  hazy  green  of 
the  olive-groves,  and  (at  any  rate  in  the 
month  of  February)  the  delicate  verdure  of 
turf  and  shrub,  just  putting  on  their  Spring 
freshness,  gave  to  the  whole  picture  a cool 
and  quiet  hue,  which  art  has  often  striven  to 
reproduce,  but  which  the  eye  must  see  for 
itself  adequately  to  appreciate.  How  shall 
I describe  the  emotion  of  that  Sunday  after- 
noon on  which,  literally  with  an  open  Bible 
in  hand,  I climbed  its  peaceful  slopes,  recall- 
ing step  by  step  the  sacred  events  and  the 
Divine  footsteps  by  which  it  has  been  forever 
hallowed ! Here,  indeed,  as  everywhere, 
one’s  instincts  of  reverence  and  one’s  sense 
of  fitness  are  wounded  and  jarred  upon  by 
the  presence  of  that  alien  race  who,  as  con- 
querors of  the  Jew,  have  spoiled  his  holy 
places  and  pitched  their  tents  amid  the  very 


OLIVET  AED  BETHANY. 


209 


courts  of  his  temple.  The  dirty  little  mosque 
to  which  I have  referred,  turned  out  to  be 
the  objective  point  of  our  guide’s  ascent,  and 
we  consented  to  climb  its  shabby  minaret 
for  the  sake  of  the  view  which  was  promised 
us  from  its  summit.  But  when,  on  descending, 
we  were  greeted  with  rather  jocose  familiarity 
by  the  custodian  of  the  place,  who  turned 
out  to  be  a friend  of  our  attendant,  and 
offered  chairs,  coffee,  and  cigarettes,  one’s 
vexation  of  spirit  was  very  real,  and  I fear 
there  was  something  of  indignant  disgust  in 
the  mood  in  which,  a little  later,  I turned 
away,  when,  in  addition,  the  same  patronizing 
Moslem  offered  to  show  me  a footprint  of 
Christ’s  within  the  enclosure  of  the  mosque 
itself ! It  is  this  easy  appropriation  by 
Mohammedanism  of  everything  that  it  has 
chosen  to  claim  in  the  traditions  both  of  the 
Israelite  and  of  the  Christian,  which  has 
undoubtedly  b'feen  a secret  of  its  success. 
But  it  makes  one’s  blood  boil  sometimes  to 
hear  the  condescending  approval  with  which 
the  Moslem  speaks  of  “ the  Prophet  Jesus,” 
while  scoffing  at  the  Christian  credulity  which 
pays  Him  Divine  honors. 

It  was  with  a very  different  feeling  that  we 
escaped  from  the  precincts  of  the  mosque,  and 


14 


210 


OLIVET  AND  BETHANY. 


passed  on  through  a corn-field  to  the  little  vil- 
lage of  Bethany.  I twisted  my  way  down  into 
the  cave  which  is  said  to  be  the  tomb  of  Laz- 
arus, and  visited  also  the  house  which  is  shown 
(by  a coarse  Arab  virago,  who  “ chaffed  ” our 
guide,  and  evidently  thought  the  whole  expe- 
dition an  amusing  farce)  as  that  of  Martha  and 
Mary.  The  former  (which  is  evidently  a nat- 
ural cave  or  tomb)  may  be  authentic,  but  the 
latter  as  obviously  cannot  be.  Either  way  I 
confess  I found  it  impossible  to  feel  any  in- 
terest in  details  about  whose  identity  there 
must  needs  be  abundant  dispute.  But  it  is 
with  quite  another  feeling  that  one  takes  in 
the  village  of  Bethany  as  a whole,  in  whose 
situation  there  is  something  inexpressibly 
beautiful  and  touching.  I suppose  it  is  be- 
cause so  much  of  the  human  side  of  Christ’s 
character  and  ministry  are  there  disclosed  to 
us,  in  His  undisguised  pleasure  in  the  house 
of  the  two  sisters  and  Lazarus,  and  in  the 
depth  and  tenderness  of  His  affection  for  the 
latter,  that  we  think  of  the  village  of  Bethany 
with  an  interest  so  peculiar,  and  so  different 
from  that  attaching  to  most  other  places  asso- 
ciated with  His  earthly  life.  And  when  one 
sees  it,  such  feelings  seem,  somehow,  to  get  at 
once  their  explanation  and  their  warrant.  For 


OLIVET  AND  BETHANY. 


2II 


Bethany  has  the  advantage  of  most  convenient 
nearness  to  Jerusalem,  and  at  the  same  time 
of  peculiar  and  most  restful  isolation.  We  had 
approached  it  over  the  hill  of  Olivet,  and  by  a 
by-path  through  such  a corn-field  as  the  Mas- 
ter passed  on  that  Sabbath  day  when  He  and 
His  disciples  plucked  and  ate  its  ears  of  corn. 
But  the  usual  road  to  Bethany  is  along  the 
highway  to  Jericho,  which  passes  round  the 
south  shoulder  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and 
which,  after  a few  turns,  leaves  every  vestige 
of  the  Holy  City  out  of  sight.  Lying  thus  on 
the  eastern  slope  of  Olivet,  Bethany  looks  off 
upon  the  valley  along  which  winds  the  road  to 
the  Jordan,  and  every  feature  of  which  is  at 
once  singularly  restful  and  rural ; and  this, 
as  it  seemed  to  one  seeing  it  for  the  first  time, 
must  needs  have  been  always  its  supreme 
charm.  It  is  at  once  so  near  to  Jerusalem, 
and  yet  so  utterly  removed  from  it.  It  is  not 
a suburban  village  overlooking  the  Holy 
City,  nor  even  any  most  distant  outskirt  of 
it.  As  the  eye  ranges  the  winding  valley  and 
the  distant  hills,  they  afford  the  perpetual 
refreshment  of  absolute  repose. 

Was  it  not  this  which  made  it  so  welcome 
a refuge,  when  the  day  was  done,  to  the  weary 
feet  of  Christ .?  Here,  it  is  true.  He  found 


212 


OLTVET  AND  BETHAXT. 


the  tenderest  sympathy,  and  the  most  loyal 
and  loving  devotion,  which  poor  human 
hearts  could  give  Him.  But  here,  too.  He 
found  what  no  human  heart  could  give  Him, 
the  peace  of  comparative  solitude,  and  the 
soothing  influence  of  the  infinite  calm  of 
nature.  When  the  days  were  ended — those 
days  of  toil,  and  often  seemingly  fruitless 
argument — above  all,  when  the  whole  human 
heart  and  brain  were  weary  and  sad  with 
those  disheartening  encounters  with  a priest- 
hood and  people  who  would  not  understand 
Him,  there  must  have  been  a rare  and 
blessed  refreshment  in  turning  one’s  back 
upon  all  the  noise  and  bustle  and  clamor 
of  the  thronged  city  and  its  pressing  multi- 
tudes, to  rest  for  a while  in  that  lowly  village, 
where  no  sight  nor  sound  of  the  town  in- 
truded, and  where  that  which  spoke  to  eye 
and  ear  alike  was  the  serene  and  soothing 
voice  of  nature.  In  such  a home  one  can 
understand  how  the  Master  found  a rest 
and  peace  which,  supremely  amid  the  closing 
hours  of  His  ministry.  He  could  look  for  no- 
where else. 

How  long  the  neighborhood  of  Bethany 
and  Olivet  will  retain  these  rural  and  retired 
characteristics  is  already  becoming  a doubt- 


OLIVET  AND  BETHANY.  2 13 

ful  question.  A French  chapel,  with  its 
wonted  appendage  of  a convent,  has  lately 
risen  upon  the  western  slopes  of  Olivet,  and 
the  Russians  have  begun  a group  of  build- 
ings of  the  same  general  character,  on  a con- 
spicuous height  near  Bethany.  As  we  passed 
the  latter,  toward  sunset,  our  attention  was 
attracted  by  a few  persons  standing  about 
what  seemed  to  be  an  open  grave.  Among 
them  stood  a priest  of  the  Greek  Rite,  with 
an  open  book  in  his  hands,  from  which  he 
was,  as  I supposed,  reading  the  Burial  Ser- 
vice. On  our  nearer  approach,  one  of  the 
party  advanced  toward  us  and  courteously 
invited  us  to  enter  the  enclosure.  On  our 
doing  so,  it  appeared  that  the  little  group 
was  indeed  gathered  about  a grave,  but  one 
at  least  a thousand  years  old.  In  digging 
over  the  ground,  to  set  out  trees,  some  Arab 
workmen  had  struck  upon  a hard  substance 
some  five  or  six  feet  below  the  surface,  and 
this,  on  being  examined,  proved  to  be  the 
top  of  a tomb  belonging,  in  all  probability, 
to  the  fifth  or  sixth  century,  when  the  whole 
site  was  occupied  by  an  Armenian  monastery. 
The  top  of  the  tomb  was  laid  in  mosaic  work, 
which  included  an  inscription,  not  decipherable 
by  the  priest,  but  which  he  was  taking  down  for 


214 


OLIVET  AND  BETHANY. 


further  investigation.  In  an  adjoining  build- 
ing we  were  shown  what  must  once  have 
been  the  floor  of  the  refectory  of  the  mon- 
astery— a piece  of  mosaic  work  some  twenty- 
five  feet  square,  and  very  rich  in  color  and 
design.  History  has  already  recorded  how 
poorly  the  monks  who  once  dwelt  there  suc- 
ceeded in  perpetuating  the  Faith  of  the 
Master  in  the  city  that  had  crucified  Him. 
It  remains  to  be  seen  how  much  better  their 
Russian  successors,  who,  after  a lapse  of 
fifteen  hundred  years,  propose  to  repeat  the 
same  experiment  of  monastic  devotion,  will 
succeed  in  reestablishing  that  Faith  among  its 
Moslem  conquerors. 

The  way  from  Bethany  round  the  south- 
western slope  of  Olivet  into  Jerusalem  is 
that  which  our  Saviour  took  when,  morning 
by  morning,  He  went  for  the  last  time  to  the 
Temple.  The  road,  scarped  out  of  the  rock, 
the  winding  path  descending  past  Gethsem- 
ane — these  may  be  as  surely  and  as  closely 
identified  as  anything  in  all  Palestine.  And 
following  it,  step  by  step,  amid  the  lengthen- 
ing shadows  of  the  waning  day,  one  could 
sympathize  with  the  feeling  of  a distinguished 
Englishman  who,  visiting  Jerusalem  not  long 
since,  is  said  to  have  dismounted  here,  and 


OLIVET  AND  BETHANY.  215 

handing  his  bridle  to  his  companion,  to  have 
said : “ Will  you  lead  my  horse  ? I cannot 
ride  here.  If  anything  relating  to  the  earthly 
life  of  Christ  is  certain,  then  it  is  certain  that 
over  this  very  road  His  feet  have  passed.” 
Remembering  this,  we  trod  its  winding  course 
in  silence,  till  suddenly  a turn  brought 
Jerusalem  and  the  ancient  site  of  the  Tem- 
ple into  full  and  commanding  view ; and 
then,  as  if  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other 
thought,  those  words  of  infinite  sorrow  and 
of  infinite  meaning  sprang  straightway  to  our 
lips,  “O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  that 
killest  the  Prophets,  and  stonest  them  which 
are  sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would  I have 
gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a hen 
gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings,  and 
ye  would  not ! ’’ 


VII. 


S/teik  Yusef — A Fatiiasia — A First  View  of 
the  Dead  Sea — The  Fountain  of  Flisha — The 
Her7nit  of  ATount  Quarantatia. 


“A  certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem 
to  Jericho,  and  fell  among  thieves  ; ” and  lest 
we  should  have  a similar  experience,  we  were 
accompanied  out  of  Jerusalem  on  our  way  to 
Jericho  by  a mounted  escort,  whose  leader 
answered  to  the  name  of  “Sheik  Yusef,”  and 
whose  appearance  was  sufficiently  warlike  to 
strike  terror  into  the  heart  of  the  most  reck- 
less Bedouin.  And  yet  Yusef  was  himself  a 
Bedawee,  and  the  sheik  of  a Bedouin  tribe. 
If  he  had  not  been  guarding  us,  it  is  highly 
probable  that  he  would  have  been  taking  toll 
of  the  travellers  elsewhere  in  a somewhat  less 
“ regular  ” fashion,  for  the  predatory  instinct 
is  ineradicable  in  the  Bedouin,  and  to  spoil 


JERICHO. 


. 217 


the  Frank  is  the  very  first  article  in  their 
creed.  On  the  more  frequented  routes  in 
Syria  there  is  perhaps  little  danger  from  the 
Arab,  but  while  we  were  at  Jerusalem  a party 
encamping  near  Solomon’s  Pools  were  robbed, 
and  this  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  their 
dragoman  had  hired  two  Turkish  soldiers  to 
mount  guard  over  their  tents.  So  we  cheer- 
fully paid  Sheik  Yusef  five  francs  a day  to 
escape  the  risk  of  being  mulcted  of  a larger 
sum  in  a more  irregular  fashion. 

And  Yusef  was  worth  the  money.  A 
better  specimen  of  the  race  that  conquered 
the  Roman  and  drove  out  the  Jew,  it  would 
not  be  easy  to  find.  Tall  and  slight  in  figure, 
silent  but  observant  in  manner,  he  rode  his 
Arab  mare  as  if  he  had  been  born  in  the 
saddle,  and  was  the  wandering  warrior  in 
every  look  and  gesture.  Such  men  throw 
light  upon  the  history  of  great  revolutions. 
It  was  such  a race — so  resolute,  frugal,  and 
hardy — that  Abu  Obeidah,  the  Moslem 
commander  of  the  army  of  the  children  of 
the  Prophet,  led  against  Jerusalem.  Yusef 
slept  upon  the  ground,  ate  a crust  of  bread 
and  a few  dates,  and  drank  from  the  wayside 
spring.  Even  so,  as  the  reader  of  Washing- 
ton Irving’s  “ Successors  of  Mahomet  ” will 


2X8 


JERICHO. 


recall,  did  the  Caliph  Omar,  that  Commander 
of  the  Faithful  who,  coming  to  take  posses- 
sion of  Jerusalem,  approached  it  riding  on  a 
camel,  with  a bag  of  dried  bread,  and  another 
of  dried  dates,  as  his  sole  outfit.  It  was, 
wherever  in  all  the  possessions  of  Heraclius 
the  Moslem  met  either  the  Christian  or  the 
Jew,  trained  self-restraint,  and  the  toughness 
of  a Spartan  simplicity,  that  conquered  races 
enervated  by  luxury,  and  demoralized  by  self- 
indulgence.  And  to-day  the  native  Syrian  is 
a formidable  foe,  simply  because  he  has  not 
altogether  lost  the  same  qualities.  If  ever  the 
Jew  is  to  win  back  from  such  a people  his  an- 
cient heritage,  he  will  have  to  exhibit  something 
better  than  the  pauperized  pusillanimity  which 
is  his  chief  characteristic  in  Judea  to-day. 

But  I have  wandered  from  Yusef,  even 
as  Yusef  occasionally  wandered  from  us. 
In  his  case,  however,  it  was  merely  to  return 
amid  a blaze  of  equestrian  glory,  which  it 
was  almost  dazzling  to  witness.  To  beguile 
the  tedium  of  our  way,  he  and  his  mounted 
companion  performed  a “ fantasia  ” (as  it  is 
called,  with  the  accent  on  the  letter  i)  for  our 
entertainment.  This  consisted  of  the  whole 
series  of  evolutions  included  in  an  encounter 
between  two  mounted  lancers,  and  was  the 


JERICHO. 


219 


very  perfection  of  lightning-like  rapidity  and 
graceful  movement.  Yusefs  companion  was 
a somewhat  ancient  and  toothless  Arab,  who 
was  almost  grotesque  in  his  ugliness,  but  who 
assured  us  that  he  had  once  been  the  drag- 
oman of  Lady  Hester  Stanhope  (who,  as  it 
will  be  remembered,  afterward  married  an 
Arab  sheik,  and  died  near  Damascus),  and 
that  Lady  Hester  had  been  at  one  time 
anxious  to  marry  him.  The  story  is  only 
worth  repeating  as  illustrating  the  boundless 
pride  and  conceit  of  a race  who  hold  all 
other  peoples  in  habitual  contempt,  and  who 
believe,  as  I was  told  by  a clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England  who  has  been  for  some 
time  at  work  among  them,  that  the  Sultan,  as 
the  Commander  of  the  Faithful,  is  literally 
the  king  of  kings,  and  that  he  crowns  every 
monarch  who  is  reigning,  as  at  present  they 
all  reign,  by  his  permission,  in  Europe  ! 

We  were  glad,  however,  of  even  ever  so 
conceited  an  escort,  especially  when,  while 
passing  through  one  of  the  narrow  and  tor- 
tuous defiles  which  wind  down  into  the  valley 
of  the  Jordan,  we  came  upon  a little  cairn  or 
pile  of  stones,  placed  in  the  middle  of  the 
road  to  mark  the  spot  where,  a few  days  be- 
fore, a Bedawee  had  been  shot  while  attempt- 


220 


JERICHO. 


ing  to  rob  some  travellers.  But  all  thoughts 
of  possible  danger  were  banished  when,  a few 
moments  afterward,  toward  the  close  of  our 
day’s  journey,  another  turn  of  the  road 
brought  us  out  upon  an  open  plateau,  from 
which  we  caught  our  first  view  of  the  Dead 
Sea.  It  was  a moment  of  utter  surprise. 
One  expects  the  Dead  Sea  to  be  as  dismal  a 
feature  in  the  landscape  as  its  dreary  name 
implies,  and  I recalled  the  strong  phrase  of  a 
traveller  who  has  written  of  it  as  “ the  black- 
ened mirror  of  desolation.”  But  in  truth 
nothing  could  have  been  lovelier  than  the 
exquisite  blue  of  its  waters  (rivalling  the 
Mediterranean  in  this),  and  the  soft  and  em- 
purpled framework  of  its  surrounding  hills. 
The  view  of  modern  Jericho,  on  the  other 
hand,  which  lay  before  us  at  our  feet,  was  fa 
more  depressing ; and  even  the  miserable 
Arab  huts  which  compose  it  seem  to  rest 
under  the  ban  of  that  ancient  curse  which 
long  ago  forbade  the  daring  that  should  ven- 
ture to  rebuild  it : “ Cursed  be  the  man  before 
the  Lord  that  riseth  up  and  buildeth  this 
city,  Jericho ; he  shall  lay  the  foundation 
thereof  in  his  first-born  ” (Joshua  vi.  26). 

Our  party  was  weary  and  way-worn  by  the 
time  we  reached  the  mud  hut  called,  by  a 


JERICHO. 


221 


most  generous  courtesy,  the  “hotel,”  where 
we  were  to  lodge  for  the  night,  and  with  a 
single  companion  I rode  on  to  visit  what  re- 
mains of  ancient  Jericho,  and  to  see,  also,  the 
fountain  now  known  as  Ain  es  Sultan,  which 
a very  strong  chain  of  testimony  indicates  as 
that  whose  waters  were  cured  of  their  bitter- 
ness by  Elisha.  Dismounting,  we  tasted  the 
stream  that  bursts  out  at  the  base  of  the  hill, 
and  found  it  at  once  sweetish  and  tepid. 
The  remains  of  a large  basin  can  be  traced 
close  to  it,  indicating  that  in  other  days  the 
water  must  have  been  husbanded  as  superior 
to  the  brackish  streams  close  to  the  Dead 
Sea.  Of  the  ancient  Jericho  itself  there  is 
literally  nothing  visible  above  the  surface  of 
the  ground,  except  perhaps  one  or  two  huge 
rubbish  heaps  which  have  been  dug  over 
recently  by  Captain  Wilson  and  other  English 
explorers,  but  without  success.  And  so  there 
was  little  to  distract  one’s  thoughts  from  the 
companion  of  Elijah,  who  had  so  early  in  his 
greater  responsibility  stood  beside  the  bub- 
bling spring  in  which  now  our  horses 
quenched  their  thirst.  On  our  way  down 
into  the  valley,  we  had  skirted  for  a little  the 
Wady  Kelt,  undoubtedly  the  Brook  Kerith, 
or  Cherith,  where  Elijah  was  fed  by  the 


222 


JERICHO. 


ravens  (I.  Kings  xvii.  1-7),  and,  peering  down 
into  its  shadowy  depths,  one  realizes  the 
loneliness  which  its  gloomy  retirement  in- 
volved. On  the  contrary,  standing  beside 
Ain  es  Sultan  it  seemed  as  if  a site  command- 
ing the  whole  of  the  broad  valley  of  the  Jor- 
dan had  been  chosen  on  which  Elisha  should 
vindicate  his  authority  as  the  successor  of  the 
elder  prophet. 

There  remained  scarcely  an  hour  of  day- 
light when  we  had  finished  our  explorations, 
but  above  us  rose  Mount  Quarantana,  which 
tradition  has  associated  with  our  Lord’s  Temp- 
tation, and  dotting  its  face  at  an  elevation  of 
several  hundred  feet  were  some  rows  of  her- 
mits’ cells,  formerly  occupied  by  religious  dev- 
otees, but,  as  we  understood,  long  since  aban- 
doned. There  was  a tradition  that  some ‘of 
them  contained  remains  of  former  decorations 
in  color  and  carving,  and  as  my  companion 
was  an  artist,  we  determined  to  scale  the  side 
of  the  mountain  and  examine  them.  The 
scramble  up  the  narrow  path,  literally  scratch- 
ed out  of  the  rocky  face  of  the  mountain,  was 
no  light  undertaking ; but  we  were  sorely  per- 
plexed when  we  found  our  progress  barred  by 
an  iron  door,  which,  however,  yielded  to  pres- 
sure, and  admitted  us  to  a smooth  open  space 


JERICHO. 


223 


formed  by  a projecting  rock,  and  forming  an 
entrance  to  a series  of  caves  running  along  the 
face  and  into  the  centre  of  the  mountain.  In 
one  of  these  a fire  was  burning,  and  presently, 
pushing  aside  a curtain  which  closed  an  open- 
ing opposite  to  that  by  which  we  had  entered, 
a venerable  looking  man  came  forward,  and 
greeting  us  with  grave  courtesy,  tendered  us 
the  hospitalities  of  his  hermit  retreat.  He 
turned  out  to  be  a monk  of  the  Greek  Church, 
who,  after  a long  life  spent  as  a sailor,  during 
which  he  had  visited  Australia,  Liverpool, 
"New  York,  and  other  ports,  had  retired  to  this 
solitary  spot  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his 
days  in  acts  of  religious  devotion.  I shall 
never  forget  those  sombre  and  mysterious  sur- 
roundings, with  their  labyrinths  of  rocky 
chambers,  amid  which,  as  the  night  closed 
down,  a moving  lamp  carried  by  one  or  the 
other  of  this  monk’s  only  companions,  flashed 
fitfully,  casting  ghostly  shadows  as  it  was  borne 
to  and  fro.  It  was  verily  a hermit  solitude,  and 
as  we  left  it  and  felt  our  way  down  again  in  the 
gathering  darkness,  we  found  ourselves  wonder- 
ing what  had  been  the  vicissitudes  of  that  rest- 
less and  roaming  life  which  had  found  its  way 
hither  at  last,  to  rest  and  pray,  and,  mayhap, 
to  repent,  with  strong  crying  and  tears. 


VIII. 


|)0att  ^03  Htttt 


A Baih  in  the  Dead  Sea — So7)ie  Historic  Mem- 
ories— Crossing  the  Jordan — Ati  Arab  Sword 
Dance. 


The  Winter  traveller  in  Palestine,  if  he  in- 
curs the  perils  of  its  storms,  escapes  the  mis- 
eries of  its  intenser  heats.  And  this,  in  the 
valley  of  the  Jordan,  is  a consideration  of  no 
little  moment.  At  its  mouth,  where  it  empties 
into  the  Dead  Sea,  the  river  is  some  1,300  feet 
below  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  in 
February  the  heat  is  fierce  enough  to  make 
the  scantiest  shade,  after  a little,  inexpressibly 
grateful.  It  was  a cloudy  morning  when  we 
set  out  from  our  khan  for  the  Dead  Sea,  and 
the  journey  across  the  desert  expanse  which 
stretches  from  the  huts  composing  modern 
Jericho  to  the  shores  of  the  sea,  was  less  try- 
ing than  we  expected.  But  when  we  reached 


TUB  DEAD  SEA  AND  THE  JORDAN.  225 

its  pebbly  beach,  the  blue  expanse  was  too 
tempting  to  be  resisted,  and,  disregarding  all 
warnings,  we  resolved  to  refresh  ourselves 
with  a bath.  My  companion  was  in  the  water 
before  me,  and  took  to  it,  after  a swimmer’s 
fashion,  head  foremost.  As  he  rose  after  his 
dive,  he  wore  a stunned  and  bewildered  ex- 
pression, and  it  was  only  when  I was  about  to 
follow  his  example,  that  he  spluttered  out, 
with  some  difficulty,  the  warning  cry,  “ Don’t 
put  your  head  under  this  water ; ” and  then, 
as  soon  as  he  could,  proceeded  to  tell  me  why. 
The  water  is  extremely  grateful,  and  even  ex- 
hilarating, to  the  skin ; but  when  it  enters  the 
ears,  eyes,  and  nostrils,  it  is  exquisitely  pain- 
ful, and  my  fellow-traveller  suffered  through- 
out the  day  for  his  rashness,  besides  having  his 
hair  converted  into  a species  of  salt  matting, 
which  it  required  repeated  washings  in  the 
Jordan,  later  on,  to  restore  to  its  normal  con- 
dition. 

With  this  exception,  bathing  in  the  Dead 
Sea  has  singular  attractions,  and  when  taken 
into  account  in  connection  with  the  warm  and 
uniform  temperature  during  the  Winter 
months,  it  is  surprising  that  it  has  not  become 
a resort  for  persons  with  weak  lungs.  If  the 
French  succeed  in  building  their  proposed 

IS 


2 26  TIIE  DEAD  SEA  ASD  THE  JORDAH. 

railway  from  Jaffa  to  Jerusalem  (which,  how- 
ever, they  are  not  likely  to  do,  as  the  question 
has  already  become  an  ecclesiastical  one,  be- 
ing made  an  issue  between  the  Greek  and 
Latin  Churches),  something  of  the  sort  may 
be  attempted. 

Undoubtedly  the  most  impressive  feature  of 
the  Dead  Sea  is  its  aspect  of  desertion.  Not 
only  does  no  fish  swim  in  it,  nor  (save  as  a 
rare  exception)  does  any  bird  fly  above  it,  no 
keel  cleaves  its  deep  blue  waters,  nor  does  any 
sail  traverse  its  length  or  breadth.  And  yet, 
as  we  wandered  along  its  shores,  and  traced 
its  fading  outlines  by  the  vanishing  ranges  of 
the  hills  of  Moab,  its  beauties  recalled  Como 
and  Maggiore,  and  the  soft  haze  that  melted 
into  the  distant  horizon  gave  it  all  the  charm 
of  an  Italian  landscape.  How  must  it  have 
looked,  we  found  ourselves  speculating,  to 
that  patient  and  dauntless  leader  who,  gazing 
down  upon  it  from  those  summits  of  Pisgah, 
which  rose  just  above  us  as  we  turned  our 
faces  eastward,  saw  in  it  one  more  obstacle 
between  himself  and  that  promised  country 
which  he  was  from  thence  to  see,  but  which 
he  might  not  enter!  And  what  must  it  have 
been  before  its  waves  buried  those  Cities  of 
the  Plain,  whose  ruins  tradition  declares  may 


THE  BEAD  SEA  AND  THE  JORDAN.  227 

Still  be  traced,  when  the  surface  of  the  sea  is 
exceptionally  calm,  showing  its  salty  and  sul- 
phurous depths  ? Such  were  some  of  the 
questions  which  occupied  us  as  we  mounted 
our  horses  and  rode  regretfully  away ; for  I 
must  own  that  I saw  no  object  of  merely  nat- 
ural interest  in  Palestine  that  kindled  so  much 
unsatisfied  curiosity  as  the  Dead  Sea.  Its 
mysterious  origin,  the  greater  mysteries  which, 
it  may  be,  are  hidden  in  its  depths,  and  then 
the  tragedies  whose  ruins  strew  its  shores,  all 
these  form  a combination  that  challenges  in- 
quiry, and  kindles  the  traveller’s  enthusiasm. 
Ere  we  turned  our  faces  toward  the  Jordan, 
we  strained  our  glasses  in  one  long  look,  to 
catch,  if  possible,  some  faint  outline  of  the 
fortress  of  Masada,  a place  not  mentioned  in 
the  Bible,  but  tragically  associated  with  the 
closing  days  of  Jewish  national  history.  It 
was  to  this  tower,  built  by  Jonathan  Macca- 
beus in  the  second  century,  and  reenforced 
and  adorned  by  Herod  the  Great  as  a place  of 
final  retreat,  that  a band  of  Jews  retired  when 
Jerusalem  was  taken  by  Titus.  They  were 
pursued  by  a Roman  commander,  Flavius 
Silva,  and  the  tower  was  besieged  for  months 
without  yielding.  At  length  a breach  was 
made,  and  late  one  night  the  Romans  prepar- 


228  TUE  DEAD  SEA  AXD  THE  JORDAN. 

ed  for  a final  attack.  When  they  made  it  in 
the  morning,  they  found  no  single  hand  raised 
to  resist  them,  and  entered  the  walls  only  to 
discover  Herod’s  splendid  apartments  a heap 
of  smoking  ruins.  As  they  pushed  on,  an  old 
woman  crept  from  a hiding-place,  and  then 
another,  and  then  a few  frightened  children. 
Their  story  was  soon  told.  They  were  the 
sole  survivors  of  967  persons,  who,  rather  than 
surrender,  had  first  turned  their  swords  upon 
their  own  wives  and  children,  and  then  drawn 
lots  who  should  be  the  executioners  of  their 
brethren.  When  two  alone  remained,  one  of 
these  dispatched  his  fellow,  and  then,  setting 
fire  to  the  palace,  fell  upon  his  own  sword. 
Such  a page — blood-stained,  but  heroic — 
seems  somehow  a fitting  close  to  that  earlier 
volume  of  Hebrew  history,  to  which  these  days 
of  their  smooth,  cringing,  money-getting,  and 
emasculated  descendants,  afford  no  promise 
of  a fitting  successor. 

I must  needs  own  that  it  did  not  greatly 
comfort  us  as  we  turned  away  in  an  unsatis- 
fied curiosity  from  the  Dead  Sea,  to  find  our- 
selves standing  by  the  banks  of  the  Jordan. 
A devout  Scotchman,  whose  volume  on  the 
Holy  Land  is  full  of  most  interesting  remin- 
iscences, utters  something  like  a lament  over 


THE  DEAD  SEA  AND  THE  JORDAN.  229 

the  want  of  enthusiasm  with  which  other 
travellers  have  greeted  the  waters  of  the  Jor- 
dan. We  gladly  admired  his  enthusiasm ; 
but  we  found  it  quite  in  vain  to  attempt  to 
emulate  it.  Is  it  a bit  of  American  boastful- 
ness to  say  that  to  one  accustomed  only  to 
English  and  Scotch  rivers,  the  Jordan  may 
easily  seem  a very  commanding  stream  ? At 
any  rate,  it  is  a meagre  and  a muddy  rivulet 
compared  with  what  we  are  wont  to  know  by 
the  name  of  a river.  Undoubtedly  it  may 
have  been  more  imposing  in  other  days,  and 
we  must  also  bear  in  mind  its  comparative 
attractions  to  a people  who  came  to  its  brink, 
as  did  the  Hebrew^,  from  what  was,  relatively, 
a sterile  and  unwatered  country.  But  I con- 
fess I found  myself  warming  with  something 
of  sympathy  toward  Naaman,  especially  as  I 
had  just  been  hearing,  while  in  Jerusalem, 
from  a friend  fresh  from  their  banks,  of  the 
pure,  affluent,  and  sparkling  streams  of  Abana 
and  Pharpar.  If  the  three  rivers  were  then 
what  they  are  now,  the  rivers  of  Damascus 
must  needs  have  seemed  “ better  than  all  the 
waters  of  Israel.” 

But  we  gratefully  pitched  our  tents  beside 
the  spreading  shade,  and  recalled  the  grand 
and  sacred  memories  which  would  make  the 


230  THE  BEAD  SEA  AND  THE  JORDAN. 

bank  of  a far  meaner  stream  than  the  Jordan 
consecrated  ground.  As  we  did  so,  we  wit- 
nessed a scene  which  taught  us  how  well 
adapted  the  Jordan  must  have  been  to  be  a 
barrier  between  the  Israelites  and  their 
heathen  neighbors  among  the  hills  of  Moab. 
Two  men,  one  of  them  mounted,  came  down 
to  the  shore,  and  attempted  to  swim  across. 
For  the  first  few  strokes  it  appeared  easy 
enough,  but  presently  a fierce  current  caught 
them  and  carried  them  down  toward  the  Dead 
Sea  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  feathers.  It 
seemed  they  were  experts  in  the  art  of  deal- 
ing with  the  river,  for,  after  a long  and  hard 
struggle,  in  which,  again  and  again,  they 
seemed  just  upon  the  point  of  sinking,  they 
crawled  out  upon  the  bank,  breathless  and 
exhausted.  And  so  we  saw  how,  save  to 
practised  swimmers  and  exceptionably  power- 
ful men,  the  waters  of  the  Jordan  must  h'ave 
offered  an  impassable  barrier. 

Our  camp  was  near  the  spot  where  the 
Israelites  are  supposed  to  have  crossed  on 
their  entrance  into  the  Promised  Land,  and 
where  our  Lord  is  said  to  have  been  bap- 
tized. So  far  as  I could  learn,  there  is  no 
warrant  for  either  of  these  traditions ; but 
they  are  sufficiently  credited  to  bring  to  the 


THE  HEAD  SEA  AND  THE  JORDAN.  23 1 

spot  an  annually-increasing  number  of  pil- 
grims of  the  Greek  and  Coptic  Churches, 
who  wash  in  the  Jordan  with  exemplary  de- 
voutness, but  who,  it  is  to  be  feared,  in  the 
case,  at  any  rate,  of  the  members  of  the 
Russo-Greek  Church,  do  not  easily  or  often 
wash  again.  It  seems  almost  cruel  to  speak 
otherwise  than  tenderly  of  any,  even  the  most 
ignorant,  devotion  to  the  land  of  Christ  and 
the  scenes  of  His  earthly  ministry ; but  one 
cannot  but  regret  that  there  is  so  little  in  the 
vast  majority  of  European  pilgrims,  whether 
in  conduct  or  manners,  to  commend  them  to 
the  respect  or  admiration  of  Arab  or  Israelite. 
They  are  singularly  ignorant,  repulsively 
dirty,  and  pitiably  superstitious.  But  what 
can  be  expected  of  Cossack  peasants  or  Greek 
palmers,  when  Monsignor  Capel  thinks  it 
seemly  to  celebrate  iSIass  on  the  banks  of  the 
Jordan  with  two  little  Arabs  to  keep  the  flies 
away,  and  a Scotch  nobleman,  his  latest  titled 
pervert,  prostrate  on  a rug  before  the  Host, 
beneath  the  rays  of  a burning  sun  ! Surely,  no 
folly  of  ignorant  homage  to  supposed  sacred 
places  can  equal  that  utter  misconception  of 
true  reverence  which  is  illustrated  in  celebrat- 
ing the  most  sacred  ordinance  of  the  Christian 
faith  before  an  audience  of  scoffing  Arabs. 


232  THE  DEAD  SEA  AND  THE  JORDAN. 

For  it  is  to  these,  to-day,  that  the  banks  of 
the  Jordan  are  given  up.  They  came  and 
performed  their  hideous  sword-dance  for  our 
entertainment  in  the  evening,  and  more  repul- 
sive and  degraded  specimens  of  their  race  we 
had  not  seen.  They  are  said  to  perpetuate 
the  worst  vices  of  the  Cities  of  the  Plain,  and 
they  are  thievish  and  treacherous  to  a man. 
And  such  a people  it  is  who  sit  down  to-day 
amid  the  vines  and  fig-trees  of  that  neglected 
but  still  fruitful  valley  which  God  once  gave 
to  Israel  as  its  exclusive  possession ! Verily, 
once  Israel  “ stretched  out  her  branches  unto 
the  sea,  and  her  boughs  unto  the  river;  ” and 
now  “ the  wild  boar  out  of  the  wood  doth  root 
it  up,  and  the  wild  beasts  of  the  field,”  aye, 
men  worse  than  wild  beasts,  “ devour  it.” 


IX. 


An  Eastern  Highway — A Tomb  on  Exhibition 
— The  First  View  of  Bethlehem  — The 
Manger  and  its  Moslem  Guardians. 


A visit  to  Bethlehem  has  a double  charm, 
which,  ordinarily,  one  does  not  anticipate. 
Its  associations  with  the  Nativity  are  apt,  un- 
til the  traveller  finds  himself  upon  the  ground, 
to  eclipse  all  others.  But  in  fact  the  whole 
neighborhood  is  perfumed  with  memories 
alike  sacred  and  stirring,  and  there  are  pages 
in  the  elder  Testament  which  get,  in  a sense 
quite  preeminent  and  singular,  new  life  and 
meaning  as  one  reads  them  surrounded  by  its 
clustering  hill-sides. 

There  is  something  to  prepare  one  for  this 
in  the  journey  from  Jerusalem.  It  is  a throng- 
ed and  animated  highway  that  leads  out  from 
the  Holy  City,  and  winding  down  through  the 


234 


BETHLEHEM. 


Valley  of  Hinnom,  climbs  up  again  toward  the 
Convent  of  iSIar  Elias.  On  the  morning  on 
which  we  traversed  it,  the  long  trains  of  cam- 
els and  dromedaries,  laden  with  merchandise 
from  Arabia,  met  us  at  every  turn.  “ Have  a 
care  of  thy  camel,  O driver ! ” shouted  our 
dragoman  at  almost  every  step  ; but  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  Persian  traders  whom  we  met 
rather  resented  the  arrogance  of  this  Egyptian 
servant  of  the  despised  Franks,  and  showed 
no  particular  eagerness  to  yield  us  the  road. 
At  such  a moment  the  whole  scene  on  that 
night  at  the  inn  in  Bethlehem  rose  up  before 
the  mind  with  singular  vividness,  and  one 
could  understand  how  the  pushing  and  pros- 
perous merchantmen  of  those  days  could  easi- 
ly have  been  as  indifferent  to  the  comfort  of 
the  traveller  then  as  now.  Nor  only  this. 
Somehow  the  camels  and  their  turbaned  at- 
tendants took  us  back  to  those  still  earlier 
times  when  certain  merchantmen,  going  down 
into  Egypt,  chanced  upon  Joseph  and  his 
brethren,  and  bought  him  as  a slave  for  the 
household  of  King  Pharaoh.  But  it  was  not 
long  before  we  came  upon  a landmark  wliich 
recalled  the  events  of  patriarchal  days  with 
still  greater  definiteness.  This  was  the  tomb 
of  Rachel,  which  stands  close  by  the  road-side, 


BETHLEHEM. 


235 


Oil  the  way  to  Bethlehem,  and  concerning 
whose  identity  there  is  scarcely  any  doubt. 
Like  all  tombs  to  be  seen  in  Palestine  to-day, 
it  is  surmounted  by  a dome,  and  the  present 
structure  is  undoubtedly  modern.  But  there 
is  a remarkably  clear  chain  of  evidence  con- 
necting the  spot  with  the  original  event  of 
Rachel’s  burial,  and  it  is  a curious  fact  that 
the  tomb  is  a shrine  to  which  Jews,  Moslems, 
and  Christians  alike  resort  with  equal  rever- 
ence. When  we  approached  it,  however,  we 
found  that  the  door  was  barred,  and  on  in- 
quiry learned  that  the  property  has  lately  been 
acquired  by  a thrifty  Israelite,  who  takes  ad- 
vantage of  the  universal  interest  in  the  spot  to 
exact  a fee  for  admission  to  this  resting-place 
of  one  of  his  ancestors.  We  would  have  paid 
the  fee  willingly  enough,  though  assured  be- 
forehand that  there  was  nothing  of  interest  to 
be  seen  within  the  tomb,  but  on  inquiry  we 
learned  that  it  was  not  one  of  the  days  for  its 
exhibition. 

A ride  of  a few  moments  more  brought  us 
in  sight  of  Bethlehem,  and  as  we  saw  the  slop- 
ing hill-sides  which  surrounded  it,  already 
green  with  the  early  harv’est,  the  whole  story 
of  Ruth  who  once  gleaned  among  the  fields  of 
Boaz  rose  up  before  us.  A few  steps  more 


236 


BETHLEHEM, 


and  we  stood  beside  the  well  for  whose  water 
David  longed  when  hidden  in  the  cave  of 
Adullam.  So,  at  any  rate,  tradition  has  des- 
ignated a well  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  near  the 
village,  and  whether  it  may  be  relied  upon  or 
not,  we  knew  that  it  was  to  the  house  of  Jesse 
the  Bethlehemite  that  Samuel  came  with  his 
horn  of  oil  to  anoint  the  youthful  David.  Be- 
fore us,  as  we  looked,  were  the  flocks  scatter- 
ed among  the  rocks,  and  a youthful  shepherd, 
calling  to  a straggler  here  and  there,  made  the 
patriarchal  employments  of  those  pastoral 
days  to  live  again. 

But  everything  else  is  lost  sight  of  in  the 
supreme  and  absorbing  interest  of  the  Event 
of  the  Manger.  It  is  true  that.ecclesiasticism 
has  done  wellnigh  everything  that  could  be 
done  to  destroy,  or  else  to  pervert,  the  sur- 
roundings of  the  original  inn  and  of  every- 
thing pertaining  to  it.  The  “ inn  ” of  the  Gos- 
pels was  nothing  more  than  a kha7i  or  huge 
enclosure  such  as  we  saw  a little  later  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Solomon’s  Pools  ; and  the 
stable,  there  seems  every  reason  to  believe, 
was  no  more  than  a cave  in  the  hill-side,  such 
as  I saw  repeatedly  on  the  way  to  the  valley 
of  the  Jordan,  into  which  animals  are  driven 
at  nightfall,  after  which  the  mouth  of  the  cave 


BETHLEHEM. 


237 


is  guarded  or  else  closed  with  loose  stones. 
Now  the  whole  spot,  if  indeed  it  can  be  iden- 
tified at  all,  is  built  over  with  monastic  build- 
ings, including  the  Church  of  the  Nativity, 
which  is  really  two  or  three  churches  in  one. 

To  be  sure,  we  were  prepared  for  some- 
thing of  the  sort  by  the  ecclesiastical  rivalries 
which  gather  about  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  But 
there  one  is  at  least  permitted  to  go  about 
without  perpetual  surveillance,  while  at  Beth- 
lehem you  are  handed  over  at  once  to  a monk 
(a  very  bland  and  affable  gentleman,  to  be 
sure),  who  never  leaves  you  from  the  moment 
of  your  arrival  until  your  departure.  As, 
usually,  he  is  a Latin,  you  get  only  the  Latin 
aspect  of  the  situation,  and  there  was  a 
ghastly  mockery  in  the  decorous  scorn  with 
which  this  pious  personage,  while  showing  us 
the  way  amid  the  subterranean  wanderings  of 
the  church,  pointed  out  to  us  a service  being 
said  in  an  adjoining  chapel  by  his  Armenian 
fellow-Christians.  This  is  the  spirit  which 
rules  in  the  breasts  of  men  who  have  chosen 
it  as  their  “vocation  ” to  lead  a “religious” 
life  on  the  spot  where  Christ  was  born,  and 
over  which  angels  hovered,  singing  “ Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace.,  good- 
will toward  men  ! ” But  a yet  more  bitter 


238 


BETHLEHEM. 


incongruity  was  reserved  for  us.  We  followed 
our  cowled  and  shaven  leader  down  a flight 
of  steps,  and  found  ourselves  in  a cave  in  the 
solid  rock,  a niche  in  the  side  of  which  is 
marked  with  a star,  round  which  runs  the 
legend,  “ Hie  de  Virgine  Maria  Jesus  Christ 
natus  est.”  It  is  the  spot  where  uncounted 
pilgrims  have  knelt  as  the  birthplace  and 
cradle  of  the  Prince  of  Peace ; and  yet,  so 
close  beside  it  that  his  musket  grazed  you  as 
you  stood,  with  an  air  of  mixed  weariness  and 
contempt  which  no  words  of  mine  can  paint, 
stood  a Turkish  soldier  detailed  by  a Moslem 
Sultan  to  prevent  Christian  devotees  from 
shedding  each  other’s  blood  on  the  very 
stones  which,  if  tradition  is  to  be  believed, 
were  once  their  infant  Saviour’s  resting- 
place  ! Amid  such  surroundings  I confess  my 
curiosity  was  soon  satisfied ; and  I sought  the 
open  air  and  pure  sunshine,  after  the  tawdry 
decorations  and  stifling  odors  of  oil  and  in- 
cense which  marked  the  subterranean  portions 
of  the  Church  of  the  Nativity,  with  unspeak- 
able relief. 

On  the  way,  however,  we  turned  aside  to 
see  the  square  vault  carved  out  of  the  rock, 
which  was  once  the  cell  and  study  of  St.  Je- 
rome. It  is  a spot  concerning  whose  identity 


BETHLEHEM. 


239 


there  can  be  scarcely  a doubt,  and  amid  its 
bare  and  austere  surroundings  the  thoughts 
which  had  been  choked  or  dissipated  by  the 
scenes  and  accessories  of  the  chapel  of  the 
Nativity  reasserted  themselves  with  a strange 
force.  After  all,  this  was  Bethlehem,  and  on 
the  hills  and  slopes  about  us  the  eyes  of  the 
Incarnate  Son  had  for  the  first  time  opened. 
With  the  thought  came  a new  color  to  the 
sky  and  a new  sweetness  in  the  air.  From 
the  summit  of  the  monastery  we  could  see 
the  road  which  Joseph,  with  the  Virgin  and 
the  Holy  Child,  must  have  taken  in  their 
flight  into  Egypt.  Far  away  to  the  eastward 
was  the  silver  thread  of  the  Jordan,  and  be- 
yond, the  hills  of  that  Moab  from  which  Ruth 
had  found  her  way  to  Bethlehem.  As  we 
looked  off,  the  landscape  was  a very  poem  of 
peaceful  beauty,  and  as  such  we  strove  to 
read  in  it  nature’s  silent  prophecy  of  a peace, 
one  day,  though  late,  to  come  to  sinning  and 
sorrowing  humanity,  through  Him  who  there 
entered  the  world  by  the  gateway  of  a help- 
less infancy. 


X. 


gsrusaJorn* 


A Scene  near  the  JVai/s  of  the  Temple — The 
Hebrew  Lament — The  Jews  ajid  Jerusaler7i 
— Missions  in  Jerusalein. 


On  the  eve  of  departure  from  the  Holy  Land 
it  is  not  unnatural  that  one’s  thoughts  should 
revert  to  its  ancient  people.  To-day,  of 
course,  they  are  only  one  element,  and  that,  in 
many  aspects  (despite  their  numbers),  the  fee- 
blest and  most  insignificant  element  in  Jeru- 
salem. But  as  one  meets  them  in  its  narrow 
and  dirty  streets,  as  shabby  and  unclean  in 
aspect  as  their  shabbiest  and  least  cleanly  sur- 
roundings, he  cannot  forget  that  these  are  the 
chosen  people,  and  that  theirs  are  promises 
which  many  of  the  devoutest  minds  in  Chris- 
tendom believe  to  be  still  awaiting  their  grand- 
est fulfilment.  And  so  you  find  yourself  scru- 


THE  JEWS'  WAILIHG-PLACE. 


241 


tinizing  them  with  a peculiar  curiosity,  which 
much  that  you  see  only  helps  to  stimulate 
without  greatly  satisfying. 

I mention  this  because  it  would  seem  as  if 
one  almost  needed  some  excuse  for  at  least 
one  indulgence  of  that  curiosity  which  at  first 
seems  hardly  defensible.  We  had  learned 
that  at  a point  just  outside  the  enclosure  of 
the  Mosque  El-Aksa,  at  a spot  which  tradi- 
tion indicates  as  part  of  the  foundation-walls 
of  the  Jewish  temple,  the  Jews  were  accus- 
tomed to  assemble  on  Friday  afternoons,  and 
bewail  their  oppressed  condition  and  the  deg- 
radation of  their  holy  places.  Indeed,  some 
one  at  our  hotel  had  made  an  effort  to  witness 
the  spectacle,  and  going  to  the  place  on  a 
stormy  afternoon  had  found,  as  he  subsequent- 
ly described  the  scene,  two  old  women  crouch- 
ed under  an  umbrella,  mumbling  certain  im- 
precations from  the  Psalms  of  David.  The 
scene  as  thus  depicted  seemed  only  too  much 
in  accordance  with  what  we  had  already  seen 
among  the  Jews,  whose  indolence  and  reluc- 
tance to  encounter  any  discomfort  is  greatly 
encouraged  by  the  condition  of  idleness  in 
which  the  mistaken  charity  of  wealthy  Israel- 
ites in  London  and  elsewhere  too  largely  main- 
tains them. 

16 


242 


THE  JEWS’  WAILiyO-PLACE. 


On  the  day  of  our  visit  to  the  “ Jew’s  wail- 
ing-place,” as  it  has  come  to  be  called,  the 
scene  was,  however,  a very  different  one.  The 
sky  was  cloudless,  and  the  air  as  soft  as  Sum- 
mer. Winding  down  a narrow  and  dirty  lane, 
we  came  suddenly,  on  turning  a corner,  upon 
an  assemblage  numbering  perhaps  two  hun- 
dred persons,  of  both  se.xes,  and  apparently  of 
every  rank  in  society,  the  most  of  whom  were 
ranged  along  the  wall  of  large  stones  which 
the  famous  painting  of  Gerome  has  made  fa- 
miliar, and  which,  whether  it  be  a part  of  the 
foundation  of  Solomon’s  Temple  or  not,  is  un- 
doubtedly the  remnant  of  a very  ancient 
structure.  Standing  with  their  faces,  in  some 
instances,  pressed  closely  against  the  rugged 
stone  wall,  was  a row  of  men  and  women,  the 
men  standing  by  themselves  and  the  women 
by  themselves,  engaged  in  repeating  passages 
from  the  seventy-fourth  and  seventy-ninth 
Psalms.* 

I had  heard  of  this  observance  from  others, 
and  e.xpected  to  find  it  a formal  and  mechani- 
cal performance,  much  like  the  recitation  of 
the  Psalter  as  one  hears  it  in  Jewish  syna- 
gogues at  home.  But  in  truth  nothing  could 

♦ In  the  Appendix  will  be  found  a vivid  and  literal  translation  of 
the  passages  used  on  these  occasions,  which  has  been  made  by  the 
Rev.  L.  C.  Newman. 


THE  JEWS'  WAILING-PLACE.  243 

be  more  different  or  less  mechanical.  There 
were  exhibitions  of  feeling  so  intense  and  so 
uncontrolled  that  it  became,  in  some  instances, 
most  painful  to  witness  them,  and  I confess 
that,  sitting  calmly  on  my  horse,  a mere  spec- 
tator of  such  passionate  outbursts  of  emotion, 
I felt  as  if  I were  almost  guilty  of  an  indeco- 
rum. There  were  aged  women,  with  their 
heads  bowed  against  the  chill  stone,  sobbing 
out,  in  their  ancient  Hebrew  tongue,  such 
words  as  “ I^ord,  the  heathen  are  come  into 
Thine  inheritance  ; Thy  holy  temple  have  they 
defiled,”  amid  floods  of  tears,  and  with  parox- 
ysms of  grief  which  shook  the  whole  frame  ; 
and  near  them  stood  strong  men,  to  whose 
tones  it  was  impossible  to  listen  for  even  a 
few  moments  without  being  affected  by  them. 
One  of  these  was  a man  a little  past  middle 
life,  whose  dress  indicated  him  to  be  a Polish 
Jew,  and  whose  rapid  and  impassioned  recita- 
tion of  the  particular  Psalms  I have  referred 
to  had  in  it  something  of  that  magnetic  qual- 
ity which  is  invariably  found  in  those  who  are 
the  leaders  in  “ revivals,”  and  other  popular 
religious  movements.  In  his  hands  he  held 
an  open  copy  of  the  Hebrew  Psalter,  over 
which  his  face  was  bent,  and  whose  pages 
were  literally  blurred  with  his  tears.  Around 


244  JEWS'  WAILING-PLACE. 

him  stood  a group,  some  of  them  his  own 
country-people,  but  others  of  various  nation- 
alities, who,  from  time  to  time,  joined  in  the 
verses  which  he  was  reading.  One  of  these 
was  a Portuguese  Jew  (as  I learned  afterward), 
of  singularly  dignified  and  stately  presence — 
a person  whose  dress  and  bearing  evidently 
indicated  him  to  be  some  one  of  consequence. 
He  succeeded  better  than  those  about  him  in 
controlling  his  feelings,  but,  while  there  was 
no  vehement  outburst,  there  was  something  in 
the  profound  grief  of  his  face,  with  its  air  of 
settled  melancholy,  and  the  eyes  red  with 
weeping,  which  was  even  more  affecting.  Af- 
ter a little  I dismounted  from  my  horse,  and 
walked  slowly  along  the  line,  only  to  find  at 
every  point  in  it  the  same  evidences  of  strong 
and  intense  emotion.  It  was  not  until  I turn- 
ed to  ride  away  that  I encountered  anything 
incongruous  with  the  sombre  sadness  of  the 
whole  spectacle,  and  that  was  from  the  lips  of 
a richly-dressed  Arab,  who  said,  with  a sneer, 
“ They  may  weep  as  much  as  they  choose,  but 
Jerusalem  will  never  be  theirs  again.” 

Certainly  not  by  such  means,  which  are 
pitiful  enough,  after  all.  For,  though  the 
Arab  believes  the  Sultan  to  be  the  king  of 
kings,  and  the  crowner  of  the  crowned,  Chris- 


THE  JEWS’  WAILING-PLACE. 


245 


tendom  knows  very  well  that  there  is  no 
feebler  potentate  upon  a throne.  And,  weak 
as  are  the  Jews  in  Jerusalem,  they  are  strong 
enough  upon  ’Change,  whether  in  London, 
Paris,  Frankfort,  or  New  York.  If  a few  great 
Hebrew  capitalists  cared  enough  for  their 
Holy  City  to  risk  a loan  to  the  Sublime  Porte, 
they  could  make  such  terms  with  the  Sultan 
as  would  secure  to  them  Jerusalem,  and  half 
of  Syria  besides.  But  as  it  is,  the  religious 
enthusiasm  of  the  modern  Hebrew  finds  its 
chief  exhibition  in  the  well-meant,  but  most 
unwise,  benefactions  of  Sir  Moses  Montefiore, 
who  maintains  large  numbers  of  Israelites  in 
idleness,  and  has  built  alms-houses,  etc.,  which 
are  filled  thus  far,  if  common  report  is  to  be 
believed,  with  those  who  least  deserve  such 
shelter. 

In  truth,  the  Jews  in  Jerusalem  present  a 
problem  no  less  perplexing  than  that  which 
they  offer  for  the  solution  of  Christian  people 
anywhere  else.  The  Church  of  England  is 
doing  a good  if  not  extensive  work  among 
them,  under  the  oversight  of  Bishop  Gobat ; 
but  the  discouragements  and  difficulties  of 
that  work,  it  is  hardly  possible,  save  on  the 
ground,  to  appreciate.  Nevertheless,  as  I 
learned  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Walton,  at  present 


246  THE  JEWS'  WAILING-PLACE. 

at  the  head  of  the  mission  work  there,  there 
is,  beside  the  work  in  the  schools,  a work  of 
equal  interest  among  adults  who  voluntarily 
seek  the  missionaries  and  take  up  their  resi- 
dence in  the  Inquirers’  Home,  and  who  from 
thence  pass  by  baptism  into  the  fellowship  of 
the  Church.  Some  of  these  converts  are 
among  the  most  respected  citizens  of  Jerusa- 
lem, and  by  their  daily  walk  and  conversation 
adorn  the  doctrine  of  their  Master.  But  they 
are  not  many  in  number,  and  any  one  who  ex- 
hibits the  least  disposition  to  look  into  the 
matter  of  Christianity  must  do  it,  as  in  primi- 
tive days,  almost  at  the  risk  of  his  life.  More 
than  once  when  a young  man  has  sought  the 
Inquirers’  Home  by  night  and  by  stealth,  he 
has  been  pursued  thither  by  his  relatives  and 
acquaintances,  who  have  stormed  the  house 
and  taken  him  away  by  force.  And  what 
complicates  the  work  is  the  hostility  to  the 
missionaries,  not  only  on  the  part  of  the  Jews, 
but  also  of  the  Mohammedans.  The  Moslem 
at  once  hates  and  despises  the  Christian,  and 
this  feeling,  which  is  more  or  less  intense 
elsewhere,  seems,  for  some  reason  or  other,  to 
culminate  in  Jerusalem.  It  is  only  a few 
months  since  the  missionary,  Mr.  Walton,  was 
attacked  at  night  by  some  Arabs,  who  had  so 


VISITS  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND.  247 

far  the  sympathy  of  the  police  that  one  of  them 
stood  within  a few  feet  during  the  whole  prog- 
ress of  the  outrage  without  the  slightest  sign 
of  interference.  Under  these  circumstances, 
one  cannot  but  honor  the  courage  and  devo- 
tion of  those  who  persevere  in  labors  thus 
hedged  about  by  dangers  and  discourage- 
ments. 


XI. 

1$  ii  Iti  llxifij 


The  Palestine  of  the  Imagination  and  the 
Palestine  of  Fact — The  Rewards  of  Travel 
in  the  Holy  Land — Its  Comparative  Facility. 


In  concluding  these  reminiscences,  there  are 
one  or  two  things  which  should,  perhaps,  be 
said,  if  only  to  prevent  misapprehension.  One’s 
first  impressions  of  the  Holy  Land  will  be  apt 
to  include  a considerable  element  of  disap- 


248  VISITS  TO  THE  HOLY  LAXD. 

pointment,  and,  as  has  already  been  indicated, 
something  of  the  shock  with  which  one  dis- 
covers the  most  sacred  localities  profaned  by 
the  incongruous  character  of  their  surround- 
ings, will  be  apt  to  transfer  itself  to  the  de- 
scriptions which  he  may  give  of  them.  And, 
as  a consequence  of  this,  the  question  may 
very  naturally  be  asked,  “ Is  it,  after  all,  worth 
while  to  visit  the  Holy  Land.'*”  In  other 
w'ords,  is  not  ver)'^  much  of  what  one  sees  in 
Palestine  so  painful  and  disillusionizing  (if  I 
may  coin  such  a word)  as  to  make  it  at  least 
doubtful  whether  it  is  not  wiser  to  stay  away  } 
It  is  something  undoubtedly  to  have  a more 
exact  and  minute  knowledge  of  the  land  hal- 
lowed by  the  footsteps  of  patriarchs  and 
prophets,  and  most  of  all,  by  those  of  the 
Master  and  His  Apostles;  but  is  it  not  some- 
thing more  to  be  able  to  preserve  our  ideal 
Holy  Land  unspoiled  by  any  rude  disclosures 
of  a degenerate  age  and  people 

Of  course,  the  answer  to  this  question  will 
depend  somewhat  upon  the  mental  constitu- 
tion of  those  who  ask  it.  There  are  some  nat- 
ures to  whom  the  creations  of  the  imagina- 
tion are  more  precious  and  more  helpful  than 
the  ruder  contact  with  actual  fact.  But  most 
persons,  it  may  safely  be  presumed,  will  prize 


VISITS  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND.  249 

most  the  attainment  of  definite  information, 
and  will  find  in  it,  despite  the  presence  of  any 
element  that  may  shatter  cherished  illusions, 
the  most  substantial  help  to  a reverent  and 
intelligent  reading  of  the  two  Testaments. 

Certainly,  this  was  my  own  experience. 
When  in  the  Holy  Land,  I was  pained,  as 
many  others  have  been,  with  the  often  dismal 
incongruity  between  its  traditions  and  its  peo- 
ple, and  still  more  between  its  most  holy 
places  and  the  moral  and  religious  atmosphere 
that  surrounds  them.  It  is  impossible  that 
this  should  be  otherwise,  unless  one  has  ceas- 
ed to  feel  at  all.  No  amount  of  familiarity 
with,  for  instance,  the  ecclesiastical  quarrels 
which  annually  take  place  around  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  if  that  familiarity  has  been  derived 
merely  from  books,  can  make  one  insensible 
to  the  shock  which  he  must  needs  receive 
when  he  actually  witnesses  such  quarrels,  or 
the  consequences  of  them,  with  his  own  eyes. 
And  nothing,  I think,  is  more  natural  than 
that  such  a feeling  should  find  somewhat 
strong  expression. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  other  im- 
pressions far  more  vivid  and  more  enduring, 
of  which,  for  a very  different  reason,  a travel- 
ler is  apt  to  say  far  less.  If,  to  such  a one, 


250  VISITS  TO  THE  HOLY  LAXD. 

the  sight  of  Jerusalem  itself,  of  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  is  a vis- 
ion of  which  he  has  been  dreaming  all  his  life 
— if  that  vision  shows  to  him  scenes  which  are 
associated  with  all  that  is  to  him  most  pre- 
cious and  most  hallowed,  he  will,  unless  his 
enthusiasm  is  of  a very  superficial  nature,  be 
very  guarded  in  its  expression.  Effusive  ut- 
terance is  not,  I venture  to  submit,  either 
natural  or  easy,  where  one  feels  most  deeply. 
Out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth 
does,  doubtless,  speak,  but  not  always,  nor 
when  the  heart  is  most  full,  with  many  words 
nor  with  “ gushing  ” volubility.  I remember 
hearing,  some  years  ago,  a young  girl,  while 
watching  a sunrise  over  Mont  Blanc  from  the 
terrace  at  Chamounix,  exclaim,  while  her  feat- 
ures were  for  the  moment  transfigured  by 
the  double  light  of  her  own  emotions  and  of 
the  splendors  which  they  reflected,  “ How 
wonderful ! ” and  though  there  was  much  elo- 
quence on  the  occasion,  from  artistic,  and 
poetic,  and  even  theological  lips,  that  one 
word,  vibrating  as  it  was  with  the  intense  feel- 
ing which  throbbed  behind  it,  seemed  to  me 
to  be  far  more  expressive  than  all  the  rest. 

Even  so,  nay,  rather  far  more,  is  this  true 
of  what  one  sees  in  Syria.  I think  it  is  quite 


VISITS  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND.  25 1 

impossible  to  see  it  without  the  stirring  of 
deeper  feelings,  beside  which  any  emotion  of 
disappointment  or  pain  fades  into  compara- 
tive nothingness.  If  I may  venture  to  refer 
to  my  own  experience,  I find  that  everything 
in  Palestine  that  at  all  shocked  me,  or  jarred 
upon  my  sense  of  reverence,  has,  somehow, 
faded  out  of  my  memory,  while  Olivet,  and 
Bethany,  and  the  hill-sides  of  Bethlehem  are 
to-day  a living  vision  of  luminous  and  beauti- 
ful reality.  A few  Sundays  ago  it  was  my  lot 
in  the  order  of  morning  service  to  read  the 
Second  Lesson  for  the  day,  with  its  history  of 
St.  Peter’s  vision  at  Joppa,  and  of  his  visit 
to  Cornelius  the  centurion  at  Caesarea,  and, 
as  I did  so,  the  whole  coast  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, with,  I had  almost  said,  every  step  of 
the  way  between  the  modern  Jaffa  and  the 
still  visible  ruins  of  Caesarea,  lived  in  my 
mind’s  eye,  with  all  its  surrounding  scenery, 
precisely  as  it  must  needs,  in  that  unchanging 
land,  have  been  present  to  the  eye  of  the 
Apostle  himself ; and  I found  myself  almost 
wishing  for  a moment  that  I might  pause  and 
make  it  live,  if  only  in  some  imperfect  meas- 
ure, before  the  eyes  of  the  listening  congrega- 
tion. 

And  this,  in  one  word,  is  the  supreme  ad- 


252  VISITS  TO  THE  HOLT  LAKH. 

vantage  of  travel  in  the  Holy  Land.  It  makes 
the  Bible  another  book.  Its  geography  be- 
comes, so  to  speak,  disentangled  and  distinct. 
Its  scenery  is  an  enduring  memory,  and  a per- 
petual and  most  helpful  commentary.  One 
reads,  “ I will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills 
from  whence  cometh  my  help,”  and  at  once 
there  rise  before  his  sight  those  mountain  fast- 
nesses whose  winding  pathways  the  traveller 
of  to-day  so  often  threads,  and  safe  amid 
which  God  so  often  hid  the  fugitive  David. 
To  say  that  such  impressions  can  be  derived 
from  books,  from  the  descriptions  of  others, 
or  from  pictures  of  whatsoever  sort,  is  to  say 
what  all  our  experience  is  perpetually  dis- 
proving. 

And  this,  as  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  answer 
to  the  question  with  which  I began.  It  is 
worth  while  to  visit  the  Holy  I,and,  simply  be- 
cause in  no  other  way  can  one  derive  impres- 
sions so  vivid,  so  enduring,  and  so  enduringly 
helpful.  It  is  worth,  to  any  clergyman,  all  it 
costs  him,  and  far  more,  to  see  Palestine,  even 
in  the  most  hurried  and  imperfect  way.  And 
it  need  not  cost  him  so  very  much,  either  in 
time  or  money.  Three  months  and  $500  are 
enough  to  cover  one’s  outlay  of  both  kinds 
from  the  time  he  leaves  his  door  in  our  own 


VISITS  TO  THE  HOLT  LAXH. 


253 


land  until  he  returns  to  it.  And  by  making 
those  months  September,  October,  and 
November,  one  could  be  at  his  post  before 
Christmas,  and  have  six  weeks  of  the  very 
best  weather,  viz.,  one  in  September  for 
northern  Syria,  all  of  October,  and  one  week 
in  November,  for  the  country  further  south. 
This  would  allow  three  weeks  for  the  journey 
from  New  York  to  Beyrout  (it  can  be  done  in 
eighteeen  days),  and  three  weeks  to  return 
via  Alexandria  in  Egypt.  I mention  these 
details  because  they  answer  questions  which 
are  so  often  asked  of  those  who  have  visited 
the  East,  and  because  they  may  help  others 
to  accomplish  a journey  which  can  never 
cease  to  have  supreme  attractions  to  every  stu- 
dent of  the  Bible,  as,  indeed,  to  Christians  of 
every  name  and  land.  The  Holy  Land  is 
the  enduring  interpreter  of  the  "U^ord  of  God, 
and  of  the  dealings  of  His  Providence  with  a 
people  whose  changing  and  eventful  fortunes 
have  had  an  almost  incalculable  influence 
upon  human  history.  As  such,  it  will  abun- 
dantly reward  every  endeavor  to  traverse  its 
varied  area,  and  to  become  familiar  with  its 
most  suggestive  characteristics. 


THE  END. 


APPENDIX. 


Literal  translation  of  the  Jewish  lamenta- 
tions at  the  place  of  wailing  at  Jerusalem. 

1. 

On  account  of  these  things,  and  on  account  of 
those,  do  I constantly  weep. 

My  e3'es,  m)'  eyes  do  flow  with  water. 

Even  for  the  destruction  of  our  holj'  house,  which 
was  trampled  upon  and  trodden  down. 

I will  ever  mourn  year  by  year. 

A holy  lamentation  on  account  of  the  holy  things, 
and  on  account  of  the  sanctuary. 

A voice  of  woe  is  heard  at  hoarj'  Ramah. 

A voice  of  wail  from  sainted  Zion’s  hill. 

A midnight’s  voice  of  woe  is  heard  at  hoary  Ramah. 

2. 

I think  of  the  days  when  I was  a Princess. 

In  the  hand  of  Jehovah  a diadem  of  glory. 

And  now  I am  black. 

I am  sunk  in  the  pit  of  the  deepest  claj’. 

On  account  of  this 


A voice  of  woe  is  heard,  etc. 


APPENDIX. 


25s 


3- 

The  only  beloved  spouse  have  I then  been. 

And  the  glory  of  the  Highest  was  I named. 

And  now  I am  descended  to  the  lowest  degrada- 
tion. 

And  my  beloved  and  my  friend  went  up  on  high. 
A voice  of  woe,  etc. 


4- 

Together  my  beloved  virgins  and  friends 
Weep  w'ith  me  for  my  many  woes. 

No  one  enlarges  my  tent  and  strengthens  my 
stakes. 

For  my  Beloved  departed  from  me,  and  I went 
into  captivity. 

A voice  of  woe,  etc. 


5- 

From  my  high  place  have  I been  cast  down  as  an 
old  hag. 

He  sent  fire  in  my  bones  ; oh,  it  prevailed. 

And  I went  into  captivity  a lone  widow. 

Judah  was  driven  into  captivity  in  perfect  misery. 

A voice  of  woe,  etc. 


6. 

The  bride  of  the  Lord  was  I in  the  midst  of  the 
temple. 

His  cloud  was  daily  seen  upon  His  dwelling  on 
Mount  Zion. 


256 


APPENDIX. 


And  now  I am  cast  away  like  a poor  intruder. 

My  enemy  took  my  ornaments,  and  I am  in  mis- 
erable poverty. 

A voice  of  woe,  etc. 


7. 

My  priests  and  my  elders  my  enemies  slaughtered. 
Oh,  they  are  the  seed  of  the  friend  of  God,  holding 
fast  His  covenant. 

My  precious  children  and  my  virgins. 

They  were  driven  in  captivity. 

A voice  of  woe,  etc. 


8. 

Behold  in  all  these  misfortunes  none  seeks  m)"^ 
peace. 

The  desolation  is  complete,  and  to  the  nations  I 
lift  up  m)'  head  for  sympathy. 

But  my  enemies  mock  me,  dare  not  call  Him  my 
husband. 

Woe  is  me,  for  I fell  before  merciless  children. 

A voice  of  woe,  etc. 

9- 

Father  of  mercies,  we  pray  Thee,  return  to  Zion. 

Ma)f  we  see  with  our  eyes  the  rebuilding  of  the 
Temple. 

And  may  this  house  be  exalted. 

And  then  may  Thy  redeemed  ones  list  their  joy- 
ful praises, 

And  the  voice  of  thanksgiving. 


APPENDIX. 


257 


Literal  translation  of  another  elegy.  Each 
distich  begins  with  a Hebrew  letter  in  alpha- 
betical order.  It  consists  of  twelve  verses. 
The  first  verse  is  repeated  after  each  verse : 


Wail,  O Zion,  with  thy  cities. 

Like  as  a woman  in  great  anguish. 

And  like  a virgin  girded  with  sackcloth 
For  the  husband  other  youth. 

2. 

On  account  of  the  citj'  which  is  forsaken. 

By  reason  of  the  transgression  of  thy  people. 
And  on  account  of  the  blasphemer’s  intrusion 
Within  thy  beauteous  sanctuary. 


3- 

On  account  of  the  e.\ile  of  God’s  ministers. 

Who  melodiously  chanted  the  songs  of  thy  praise  ; 
And  on  account  of  their  blood  which  was  spilt. 

Like  the  water  of  thy  rivers. 


4- 

On  account  of  the  joyous  dances 
Which  are  now  silent  in  th)'  cities. 

And  on  account  of  the  Assembly  Palace  which  has 
been  destroyed. 

And  the  abolition  of  thy  Sanhedrim. 


258 


APFESDIX. 


5- 

On  account  of  th}'  continual  sacrifices 
And  the  redemption  of  the  first-born, 

And  on  account  of  the  profanation  of  the  vessels  of 
the  temple 

And  the  altar  of  incense. 


6. 

On  account  of  the  royal  scions, 

The  sons  of  David,  thy  nobles. 

And  on  account  of  their  beauty,  which  became  dark 
Since  the  removal  of  th)"^  diadem. 


7- 

On  account  of  the, glory  which  has  departed 
-\t  the  time  of  the  destruction  of  thy  palaces, 

•\nd  on  account  of  the  oppression  of  the  oppressor. 
Who  made  thy  girdles  sackcloth. 

8. 

(7n  account  of  the  wounds  and  multitude  of  bruises 
With  which  her  Nazarites  were  smitten, 

.\nd  on  account  of  the  dashing  against  the  stones 
Of  thy  infants  and  thj'  young  men. 

9- 

On  account  of  the  joy  amongst  thy  enemies 
Who  mock  at  thy  calamity. 

And  on  account  of  the  affliction  of  the  noble  sons. 
Thy  princes,  th}-  chaste  ones. 


L 


APPEymx. 


259 


10. 

On  account  of  the  transgression  which  perverted 
The'appointed  pathway  of  thy  footsteps, 

And  on  account  of  the  hosts  of  thy  congregations, 
The  sunburnt  ones,  and  dark  ones. 

11. 

On  account  of  the  voices  of  thy  abusers 

At  the  time  when  thy  carcasses  were  multiplied. 

And  on  account  of  thy  raging  cursors. 

Within  the  tabernacle  of  thy  court. 

12. 

On  account  of  thy  name,  which  has  been  profaned. 
In  the  mouth  of  thy  upstart  oppressors. 

And  on  account  of  their  loud  solicitude. 

Hearken  and  listen  to  her  words. 

Wail,  O Zion. 


These  lamentations  are  finished  by  several 
prayers  for  the  speedy  coming  of  the  Messiah, 
The  following  is  the  concluding  verse  : 

In  mercy,  Lord,  Thy  people’s  prayer  attend  ; 

Grant  the  desire  of  mourning  Israel. 

O shield  of  Abraham,  our  Redeemer  send. 

And  call  His  glorious  name  Emmanuel. 


Date  Due 

T0mm 

i 

D 

PRINTED 

IN  U.  S.  A. 

